


Two Sides Of One Coin

by Tehri



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Baggins-side vs Took-side, Comedy & Drama, Confused Bilbo Baggins, Eventual Happy Ending, Goldsickness, Good Guy Dáin, Good Guy Thorin, I am so very sorry, Inital comedy - fading into drama, Journey to Erebor, M/M, Mental screaming, One-sided Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Quest for Erebor, Thorin is subtle, Two personalities (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6822802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tehri/pseuds/Tehri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone sees what they want to see in Bilbo Baggins. The Bagginses see a somewhat wilder version of his father Bungo, and the Tooks see a calmer version of his mother Belladonna. No one but him sees that he is more or less a perfect mix between a Took and a Baggins, with all the wonderful rival personality-traits and mental arguments that come with it.<br/>Said mental arguments occur more often when Bilbo encounters a group of dwarves on a quest to their homeland...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Journey Begins

As rumours had a tendency to fly in the Shire and everyone knew a little about most people, most hobbits knew very well that Bilbo Baggins looked and behaved like a second edition of his father Bungo. Though, in all fairness, his aunts and uncles on the Baggins-side of the family would laugh and say that Bungo had been a good deal rounder than his son, and possibly even more reclusive.

Most hobbits would also say that young Bilbo had inherited some of the Tookish queerness from his mother Belladonna, particularly in his strange wishes to meet foreign folk and see what laid beyond the borders. But the aunts, uncles and cousins who had had a lot to do with her would simply grin and say that Belladonna had been wilder than anyone gave her credit for, and that it had been a miracle that she settled down and married at all.

What no one ever said was that Bilbo was as close to a perfect mix of a Baggins and a Took as it was possible to be. His mother’s quicker temper and adventurous wild nature always lurked beneath the surface. His father’s stable and quite frankly immovable sensibility had free reign for most of the time. Those who remembered and knew what Bagginses could be like when angered would state that the sudden explosion of fury that was Bungo’s temper also lurked in the boy. And those who recalled Belladonna’s quick thinking could tell that her son had inherited most of her sensibility regarding being prepared for anything.

Everyone saw what they wanted to see. The Bagginses saw a somewhat wilder and more social version of Bungo, and the Tooks saw a calmer and steadier version of Belladonna. Hobbits outside those families simply saw someone who was far too odd for their tastes.

Bilbo, on the other hand, had lived long enough to be able to identify the different sides to his behaviour and thoughts; he had managed to label them as his Baggins-side and his Took-side even before he came into his tweens. If he took a little longer to make a decision regarding something than most, he would simply put it down to these two sides arguing loudly about it in his mind.

Meeting a group of dwarves had made those arguments occur a bit more often than Bilbo was actually comfortable with.

 

* * *

 

 

The very first encounter was with master Dwalin, son of Fundin. Bilbo had just finished cooking his dinner and sat down to start eating when there the doorbell rang. He considered briefly if he could perhaps remain seated and simply eat his dinner without bothering to open the door, but decided against it; it just wasn’t polite. So, he reluctantly got up and went to the door. And as he opened it, he had to force back a squeak of fright at the sight of the large dwarf standing on his doorstep.

“Dwalin, at your service,” Dwalin said, bowing low.

Bilbo stared for a moment before remembering his manners; he bowed low and answered:

“Bilbo Baggins at yours.” And as the dwarf pushed past him into the smial, he added nervously: “Do we know each other?”

Dwalin gave him a blank look.

“No.”

Soon enough, the burly dwarf was seated in the kitchen, eating Bilbo’s dinner. And Bilbo, who sat beside him, was having one of his mental disagreements.

 _What in the name of Bullroarer is going on?!_ The Took-side was very upset. _That is a dwarf! In_ our _kitchen! Eating our_ food _!_

 _Yes. Yes, it is._ The Baggins-side was, to be honest, rather paralysed by the situation. By acceptable social manners, it would have been terribly impolite not to offer the dwarf some food, and Bilbo’s own dinner was all that had been cooked.

 _I’m not certain you heard me_ , the Took groaned. _I am saying that there is a dwarf in our smial, eating our dinner. The dinner we cooked for_ us _. The only food we were going to make before bed._

 _Yes. I am aware_ , the Baggins huffed. _And it is a very_ large _dwarf._

_You’re not going to do anything?_

_That would be rude. Could we just… Well… Could we just let him have it?_

_That is not an option. That food is ours._

Bilbo had just started to subtly reach for the teapot (smashing it over the head of a dwarf would make his soul weep, but there was the pressing matter of his food being eaten) when Dwalin suddenly opened his mouth and spoke.

“Very good this,” the dwarf said around a mouthful of fish. “Any more?”

Bilbo stared dumbly at his guest for a moment, hand still reaching for the teapot, before the Baggins-side briefly woke from its temporary paralysis. He got up, took two steps over to the windowsill and picked up a plate of scones that he had baked earlier with the intention of having one or two as a midnight snack. Quickly grabbing one and hiding it behind his back, he handed the rest over to the dwarf.

“It’s just,” he started slowly as the dwarf began to stuff his face with scones, “I wasn’t expecting company…”

At that moment the doorbell rang again, and Dwalin gave Bilbo a look that was quite frankly ominous.

“That’ll be the door,” the dwarf stated.

And so started one of the most confusing evenings in Bilbo’s life. While he was desperately trying to keep the rambunctious dwarves in line and stop them from stealing his food, he also tried to recall if he had ever been more shocked. He drew a blank.

It really didn’t get better when Thorin Oakenshield arrived. By that time, the Took in Bilbo was steadily growing furious, while the Baggins-side was attempting to pretend that nothing was wrong. The revelation that the quest the dwarves would go on involved a dragon had Bilbo forcing back a frightened and somewhat hysterical laugh and the urge to simply go and hide in his bedroom.

Then came the contract.

 _‘Tools of the trade’? What on earth do they mean by that?_ The Baggins-side was utterly confused, but determined to get through the entirety of the contract. The Took-side, not so much.

 _Just hurry up_ , the Took grumbled. _Let’s just get this over with._

_‘Not liable for injuries’?!_

_I said to hurry up!_

_‘Including, but not limited to’-_

“Laceration,” Bilbo mumbled, a frown appearing on his face. He didn’t notice that the dwarves were staring at him expectantly. “Evisceration? Incineration?!”

“Oh, aye,” a dwarf in a funny hat said cheerfully. “He’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye!”

 _Shite_ , said the Took with feeling.

 _Oh_ , said the Baggins weakly.

Bilbo stood in the hallway as though frozen for a moment before swaying slightly on the spot.

“You all right, laddie?” asked the white-haired dwarf who had handed him the contract.

Bilbo didn’t even spare the dwarf a glance. He took a deep breath.

“I feel a bit faint,” he mumbled.

“Think furnace, with wings,” suggested the dwarf with the funny hat, pointing at him with his pipe.

“Air,” said Bilbo. “I need air…”

 _Don’t_ , the Took warned.

 _Oh_ , squeaked the Baggins again.

“Flash of light, searing pain,” continued the dwarf brightly. “Then, poof! You’re nothing more than a pile of ash!”

Bilbo straightened and swayed again. He contemplated that last statement very thoroughly.

 _Oh_ , the Baggins whimpered.

“Nope,” Bilbo stated before keeling over into blissful unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

To be entirely honest, Bilbo had no idea about how he came to travel with the dwarves. He would quietly blame it on his Took-side, which had apparently taken over entirely after the fainting incident.

 _We were due a bit of an adventure_ , the Took argued cheerfully once the Baggins snapped out of its catatonic state. _We’ve been holed up in the Shire since da died, seeing the same old sights and nothing else._

 _I believe I prefer being holed up in the Shire to being burnt to a crisp by a dragon_ , the Baggins sniped back. _We’re travelling with_ dwarves _, for goodness’ sake! Look at them! Filthy and armed to the teeth! This is not proper Baggins behaviour!_

“Proper Baggins behaviour doesn’t seem to have a place here,” Bilbo mumbled to himself, wincing as the pony apparently stepped in another hole in the road. “We’ve barely passed Bree, and I’m already regretting this.”

“What are you mumbling about?” The dwarf in the funny hat, whose name was apparently Bofur, had slowed his pony to walk beside Bilbo’s. “If you’re still wishing that you had your handkerchief, I think it’s too late.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Bilbo shot the dwarf a smile; Bofur was one of few who were actually friendly and approachable. He liked him, despite his sometimes crass manners. “I just miss home, I suppose.”

“You’ve been away for a few days, no more than that,” Bofur chuckled. “Are you that worried about what’ll become of your dishcloths?”

 _They were doilies, you savage_ , snapped the Baggins angrily. _And very fine ones too! Mother made several of them!_

 _Not going to mention that da made the particular one Bofur was holding?_ the Took asked vaguely. _Or that he embroidered the handkerchief?_

 _You can shut up and respect our parents’ memory, you are hardly any better_ , the Baggins hissed.

Bilbo shook himself.

“No, of course not,” he said quickly. “And it was a doily, master Bofur, not a dishcloth.”

“What of the dishes, then?”

“The ones you were throwing about were my mother’s,” Bilbo said carefully. “Her favourite set. They belonged to my grandmother Adamanta. Mother received them as a birthday present the year before grandmother died.”

Bofur gave the hobbit a long look before nodding and reaching out to pat his shoulder.

“My apologies then,” he said, and there was genuine regret in his voice. “We’re normally more careful about family heirlooms, but we didn’t know. And you were so uptight, we thought we should lighten the mood a bit.”

“I did shout that they were over a hundred years old,” Bilbo mumbled. “And I am not uptight.”

“You’re wound so tight that one would have to take years to straighten you out,” Bofur snorted. “But truly, we meant no harm.”

 _Meant no harm?!_ The Baggins was practically shrieking by this point. _Scraping mud off their boots on mother’s glory box, tracking said mud everywhere, destroying the plumbing, practically threatening to destroy the Westfarthing set!_

 _Eating our food_ , the Took stated glumly. _The pantry was practically bare. And disregarding that wonderful cheese._

_They could’ve destroyed our smial, and you’re fretting about the food?!_

_Yes, well, it was_ our _food!_

 

* * *

 

 

Admittedly, Bilbo found the first few weeks of travel utterly tedious and boring. Nothing happened. Or well, nothing beyond the fact that Fili and Kili made fools of themselves and that the light-fingered Nori attempted to nick Bilbo’s pipe. On the third day after they had left Bree, Bilbo started to play little games with himself to keep his mind occupied. He would look around for different things, choose one and then try to think of ten words starting with the same letter. He would think of a word describing a member of the Company and then try to think of as many synonyms for that word as possible.

And when those games became boring sometime during the fifth day of the same routine, he started to name the ponies.

Obviously they already had names, but no one had told him what names it would be.

After a while of thinking, he decided to call his pony Myrtle. It seemed fitting enough. Bofur’s received the name Daisy, and the dwarf seemed quite content with calling his pony by that name. And after a quick word with master Balin, the white-haired dwarf’s pony was named Bungo in honour of Bilbo’s father.

It stood to reason that the other dwarves would become curious after a while and ask what Bilbo would call their ponies. Soon they all had new names for the beasts. Except one.

Thorin Oakenshield’s pony was nameless. Or rather, no one had bothered to tell poor master Baggins what it was named, and he thus started to try to think of a name for it. Fili and Kili soon set to helping him, and laughingly suggested several different names that could suit the temperamental pony.

“She hates everyone,” Fili said fervently. “Everyone except uncle. She used to be Dwalin’s, actually, but he was never much for riding. And everyone thought she’d tear uncle’s hair out when she was given to him.”

“She nearly did,” Kili added with a grin. “Took it in her mouth and pulled. And he just grabbed onto the halter and glared at her and said something to her and she just let go.”

“She’s been the sweetest thing with him since then,” Fili sighed. “I don’t understand what he said. She won’t let either of us close, and she nearly kicked mother once.”

“I’m sure that still doesn’t warrant a name that translates to ‘the greatest of evils’,” Bilbo sighed. “Whatever that name was again. You’re just trying to get me into trouble.”

 _We could call her Lobelia_ , the Baggins said slowly. _It certainly sounds like her temper is suitable enough._

 _No, that would be an insult to the pony_ , the Took answered. _How is that fair?_

_The first one I suggested, then?_

_Yes, I think so._

“Minty,” Bilbo said finally, cutting Kili off mid-sentence as the lad tried to pitch another one. “I’m going to call her Minty.”

The brothers stared at him in silence. Bilbo even had time to start to feel relieved at the lack of conversation before they started to laugh, and loudly so. The other dwarves turned their heads to see what had caused the ruckus, and Bilbo groaned and urged Myrtle to move a little faster. Or well, he tried to. Fili reached out and grabbed the reins and held the pony at its pace.

“That’s a good one,” he laughed. “Really, that was really good.”

“I can’t breathe,” Kili wheezed where he was bent double over his pony. Poor Clover looked like he wanted to toss the dwarf into a puddle.

“I’m not joking,” Bilbo snapped. “I said Minty, and I meant Minty!”

“What in Mahal’s name are you babbling about, Halfling?”

Thorin’s sharp voice made the hobbit freeze and slowly turn his head to find the dwarf king right beside him.

 _I don’t think he likes the name_ , the Took said slowly. _Or he wonders if we’ve made his nephews worse than before._

 _He looks angry_ , the Baggins said nervously. _I don’t like it._

“Mister Boggins has been naming the ponies,” Kili informed his uncle cheerfully. “Each and every one except yours.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow with a distinctly sceptical look on his face.

 _He doesn’t want to know, let’s just stay quiet_ , the Baggins urged.

 _He’s going to ask_ , the Took groaned.

“He wants to name her Minty, uncle,” Fili said with a wide grin. “How does that sound?”

Thorin’s icy gaze landed on the hobbit again. Bilbo stared back without the slightest hint showing on his face that he would rather go and hide under a rock somewhere.

“What, pray tell, is wrong with the name she already carries?” Thorin asked coolly.

“No one has told me any of their names,” Bilbo answered immediately. “I’ve asked, but they only give me the translations of their names and not the actual word.”

“And that is not enough for you?”

Bilbo huffed and rolled his eyes. Thorin’s eyes instantly narrowed.

 _No eye-rolling_ , the Baggins hissed nervously.

“It doesn’t really help, no,” Bilbo said, trying to choose his words carefully. “So I give them names to ensure that I at least have something to call them.”

In the heavy silence that followed (broken only by the sounds of hooves on the dry ground), Bilbo could swear that he saw a small hint of amusement flicker over the dwarf king’s features.

“And what possessed you to name her Minty?” Thorin finally asked.

“As nice as Lobelia would be, it reminds me of someone I don’t like,” Bilbo admitted. “So that was out. Besides, she just looks like she’d be called Minty.”

Thorin huffed and shook his head, turning away and urging the newly named pony to move a little faster.

 _All limbs still attached_ , the Took hummed. _I’ll count that as a victory._

 _That’ll be the closest we’ll ever get to making him smile_ , the Baggins sighed. _At least that’s out of the way now, and with less embarrassment than expected._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has taken me about a year to finish this, due to a lot of stuff coming in between. But I've made the decision to post one chapter per week, which gives me a bit of time to edit every chapter. Hope you'll enjoy where this crazytrain is headed!


	2. Trolls and Sneaky Things

As a little boy, Bilbo had heard a lot of stories about the world outside the Shire. The Took in him would practically shriek with joyful glee whenever his mother would tell him stories about her travels, while the Baggins would become nervous and a little bit frightened. But it was the stories his father had told him about trolls that stuck with him. Bungo had never seen a troll in his life, and he had once said that he was very happy for that fact. But he had a good deal of stories about them, and Bilbo had happily listened to each and every one year after year.

Now that he was tied up in a sack by three of the monstrous things, he decided that the stories about trolls that he’d heard when he was little were definitely meant to be child-friendly. There had been nothing about their eating habits, for one – nothing about how they’d eat apparently anything that consisted of meat, or how they’d be specifically cruel about it when it came to dwarves.

_Well, this certainly did not go as intended_ , the Took groused. _I’d hoped we’d get out of this unscathed. Why did we listen to Fili and Kili? They have less sense than Adalgrim, and at least Adalgrim wouldn’t send someone else to do his work for him!_

_We didn’t listen_ , the Baggins stated flatly. _They didn’t give us a chance to say no, and they disappeared before we could ask any questions._

_If you’re going to say ‘I told you so’, could you at least just get it over with before it’s our turn on the spit?_ the Took begged.

_All I ever told you was that the lads suggesting not to worry Thorin seemed suspicious_ , the Baggins muttered.

Bilbo listened to the angry shouts of the dwarves around him as they tried to get out of their sacks. More than anything, he listened to the grumbling of the trolls as they argued about how one was supposed to actually cook a dwarf.

“Don’t bother cookin’ ‘em,” said one troll. “Let’s just sit on ‘em, an’ squash ‘em into jelly!”

_Lovely way to die_ , the Took commented dryly. _Last thing you ever see in life is a troll’s bum or bollocks._

“They should be sautéed,” said a second troll standing by the spit. “An’ grilled, with a sprinkle o’ sage.”

_A sprinkle of sage, my foot,_ the Baggins sighed. _You’ll need full bundles for this lot._

“Never mind th’ seasonin’,” snapped the third troll. “We ain’t got all night! Dawn ain’t far away! I don’t fancy bein’ turned to stone!”

_Wait, what did he just say?_ the Took asked quickly.

_Turned to stone_ , the Baggins hissed. _Turned to stone, that’s it!_

Bilbo struggled to get to his feet immediately. Thorin, who laid beside him, glared at him with a look on his face that was at once confused and furious.

“What are you doing?” the dwarf hissed. “If you try to slip away, you little traitor, I’ll-“

“Keep your mouth shut,” Bilbo hissed back, and then raised his voice to make himself heard over eventual protests from the royal dwarf. “Wait! You are making a terrible mistake!”

The trolls turned to stare at him. The dwarves tied to the spit began to shout at him.

“You can’t reason with them, they’re halfwits,” Dori shouted from his place on the spit.

“Halfwits?” Bofur called back. “What does that make us?!”

“I meant with the seasoning,” Bilbo said, giving a nervous but polite smile to the trolls.

“Wha’ ‘bout the seasoning?” asked the second troll sharply.

“Well, have you smelt them?” Bilbo asked, grimacing and shaking his head. “You’ll need something a lot stronger than sage before you can plate this lot up.”

The dwarves fell oddly silent – probably contemplating the hobbit’s sudden change of heart – before their voices rose even louder than before in wild and desperate protests.

“Traitor!” Thorin roared behind him, and Bilbo tried to keep himself from imagining what a look of absolute betrayed fury would look like on the dwarf’s face.

“Wha’ d’you know about cookin’ dwarf?” asked the third troll gruffly.

“Shut up,” the second troll snapped. “Let it talk!”

_Well, we’ll need to say something_ , the Baggins hummed. _Let’s see, what would be the easiest way?_

“The secret to cooking dwarf,” Bilbo said slowly. “The… The secret is, uhm…”

“Yes?” the troll asked impatiently. “Tell us th’ secret!”

“Yes, yes, I’m telling you!” Bilbo desperately clasped at everything he knew about cooking and whatever small bits of information he had ever received from his Took-cousins about their hunting-trips among the green hills of Tookland. “The secret is…”

The dwarves were silent now, and staring at him. He could feel their stares bore into him.

_Oh! Now I know_ , the Baggins called gleefully.

_Well, they’re not going to like this_ , the Took commented.

“The secret is to skin them first!” Bilbo stated triumphantly.

Chaos immediately broke out. The dwarves struggled harder than before and shouted threats at the poor hobbit. The second troll gestured to one of the others.

“Tom,” it said, “get me filletin’ knife.”

“I’ll get you for that,” Glóin roared behind Bilbo. “I’ll get you, you little-“

“I won’t forget that,” Dwalin shouted, pointing threateningly (as best he could, tied to the spit as he was) at Bilbo. “I won’t forget it!”

_If we get out of this alive, we’ll be murdered by our own comrades_ , the Took sighed. _What a blessed life we lead, eh?_

_Utterly ungrateful_ , the Baggins sniffed. _We’re trying to keep them alive!_

Bilbo glanced around, blinking as he saw a bit of sunlight streaming from behind a large rock. Just a little more, just a minute or two…

“Wha’ a load o’ rubbish,” the third troll huffed. “I’ve eaten plenty wit’ their skins on! Just scarf ‘em, I say, boots an’ all!”

“Tha’s right,” the first troll cried. “Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf!” It reached out and grabbed poor Bombur, lifting him high into the air by his feet. “Nice an’ crunchy!”

_Oh, sod_ , the Took gasped.

“Not that one!” Bilbo wrung his hands inside the sack. “He’s infected!”

“You what?!” the third troll hissed, a shocked look passing over its face.

“He’s got worms,” Bilbo said nervously. “In his… tubes.”

The troll holding Bombur let out a yelp and immediately dropped the fat dwarf, who landed right on his friends with a loud groan.

_Worms in his tubes_ , the Baggins said incredulously. _That’s the best you could think of?!_

_It worked, didn’t it?_ the Took grumbled.

“In fact, they all have,” Bilbo rambled on. “They’re infested with parasites, it’s a terrible business. I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.”

The trolls stared at each other, and the little hobbit forced back a triumphant grin. It seemed that the desperate white lie actually worked.

“Did he say parasites?” Óin asked somewhere behind him.

“We don’t have parasites,” Kili shouted angrily. “You have parasites!”

Bilbo tried not to groan, throwing a desperate look over his shoulder while he contemplated the dwarves’ apparent death-wish. For a moment, he met Thorin’s gaze, and he had to cheer mentally as a look of comprehension dawned on the dwarf’s face. Thorin kicked his nephew in the back, as hard as he could. Kili let out a yelp and glared at him, and then saw the look on his uncle’s face. The other dwarves stared as well, and understood.

“I’ve got parasites as big as my arm,” Óin claimed immediately.

“Mine are the biggest parasites, I’ve got huge parasites,” Kili shouted.

_Subtlety isn’t their strong suit, is it_ , the Baggins groaned.

_Sun’s nearly high enough_ , the Took said eagerly. _There’ll be time to teach them a bit about that._

“Wha’ would you ‘ave us do, then?” asked the third troll suspiciously. “Let ‘em all go?”

“Well…” Bilbo couldn’t help a small pleased smile. Bad idea. Very bad.

“Y’think I don’t know what you’re up to?” the troll snarled angrily. “This little ferret’s takin’ us for fools!”

Bilbo let out an offended gasp at being called a “little ferret”. The other two trolls growled angrily at being thought of as fools. And then Gandalf’s voice boomed through the morning air as he stepped up onto the large rock that blocked the sun.

“The dawn will take you all,” the wizard called as he slammed his staff against the rock and split it neatly in two. Sunlight flooded into the clearing, and the trolls did not like it one bit. They snarled, screamed and growled, and tried to block the light with their large arms. But nothing helped. Soon they stood there, three massive statues that would never move again.

The dwarves were crying out and laughing in delight around him, and poor Bilbo simply stood there, a little confused about what just happened. Gandalf climbed down from the boulder with a satisfied smile and simply went straight over to Bilbo and got him out of the sack.

“Excellent work, my lad,” he said brightly. “Quick thinking, very good indeed! Now come, let us see if we can help our friends, shall we?”

_Is it safe to pass out now?_ the Baggins asked weakly.

_I’d like to know that too_ , the Took mumbled. _I never want to see a troll again._

 

* * *

 

 

_Rivendell was nice_ , the Baggins said in a conversational tone. _Very nice indeed. I felt as though I could live there._

_Agreed_ , the Took answered. _All the little nooks and crannies to explore, that gorgeous garden, the woods, the rivers…_

_Mother really didn’t joke when she said it was perfect_ , the Baggins hummed. _To think that such a marvel would be hidden away like that in such a dangerous place._

_Pity we had to leave, eh?_

_We agreed not to talk about where we are._

Bilbo frowned slightly as he made his way along the dark tunnel. He was trying to remember some things that he had been told when he was younger. His uncle Isembold had married a young healer’s apprentice from Tuckborough, Asphodel Bunce, and she had made sure to teach her numerous children and their cousins what to do if they had sustained some form of head injury (which, in all fairness, was disturbingly common among Took-children). He felt fairly certain that one of the steps involved checking if one’s memory was alright.

Slowly but surely, he went through what had happened lately. The visit to Rivendell had been nice, if unplanned (or rather, unplanned according to Thorin, and entirely planned according to Gandalf). The journey away from the Hidden Valley had been more or less uneventful; that is, uneventful in the sense that nothing more happened than Fili and Kili managing to get the entire Company to leg it after they had managed to knock a beehive out of a tree. In fact, nothing _worse_ had happened until they reached the mountains. The stone giants had been alarming. And then the goblins. Bilbo had never been so frightened in his life as when he and the dwarves were dragged off by the goblins. And seeing the Great Goblin had frightened him even more. Gandalf’s timely rescue had saved them from being tortured until they spilled the beans about the truth (or until they died, whichever pleased the horrid creatures more), and the flight through the tunnels had not been much better than when they were led down by the creatures that made them their home. Then his memory got a little hazy. He knew that the dwarves had taken turns carrying him, as he wasn’t able to run as fast as them. Had he perhaps fallen from the back of one of them and hit his head? His head hurt, that was certain, and there was a spot on the back of it that felt rough, somehow, and where his hair was sticking to his skull. There must have been a fall. But why hadn’t he been picked up again?

_Typical that we were left behind_ , the Took groused. _Not like we didn’t already know that dwarves look after themselves first._

_Yes, but leaving us behind in the tunnels?_ The Baggins sounded uncertain. _They look after themselves first, but so do hobbits. And they are kind, for all that they seem gruff. Bofur wouldn’t have left us, and neither would poor Ori or Bombur. Or Dori, for that matter, or Balin._

_You don’t know that_ , the Took snapped. _What, do you think they would just have momentarily forgotten us?_

_It’s terribly dark in here_ , the Baggins protested. _They wouldn’t have seen us!_

Bilbo shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It wouldn’t do to doubt his friends now. He couldn’t know what had happened. Nor, for that matter, could he remember. It was best to focus on the task at hand, which was to find a way out. It only bothered him a little that it felt like the tunnel was sloping downwards. He had no idea where he would end up.

Down and down into the darkness he went, clutching his little sword in one hand and feeling along the tunnel wall with the other. He had to come to an end sooner or later.

And once he did, he realised that he was no closer to a way out of these dismal tunnels than when he had started. With a splash and a yelp, he trod in cold water.

_Just our luck_ , the Baggins said gloomily. _Water._

_And no way to tell if it’s a lake or a river of some sort_ , the Took sighed. _This is no good at all._

Bilbo frowned and listened carefully; he could hear the faint dripping of water further off, drops probably falling from the ceiling of the cave. Probably a lake, then, as it sounded like the drops landed in water and not on rock. No good, he decided as he turned around to leave.

“Bless us and splash us, my precious,” hissed a voice in his ear, making him jump with fright. “I guess it’s a choice feast! At least a tasty morsel it’ll make us, _gollum_.”

_Just our luck_ , the Baggins said again, now with a hint of fear in his voice. _What is presumably an underground lake blocking our way forward, and now some strange creature talking to us._

_How in the world does anyone live here?!_ the Took gasped. _How is that even possible?_

“Who are you?” Bilbo asked nervously, taking a step or two away from the two pale eyes he could faintly see in the dark and sticking his sword out towards the creature.

“What is it, my precious?” the creature whispered thoughtfully. In the dark, it looked like whatever it was tilted its head as it eyed the poor hobbit.

“I am Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo stated, desperately attempting to keep the tremor out of his voice as he spoke. “I have lost the dwarves, and I have lost the wizard, and I don’t know where I am. And I don’t want to know, if only I can get away.”

_Do you suppose this thing knows what dwarves are?_ the Baggins asked worriedly. _Or wizards, for that matter?_

_No clue_ , the Took answered flatly. _I just want to get out of here._

“What’s he got in his handses?” hissed the creature, giving Bilbo’s little sword a long look.

“A sword,” Bilbo answered quickly, hoping that the creature would actually know what a sword was and what it was used for. “A blade which came out of Gondolin.”

The creature let out a low hiss and its eyes bobbed up and down in what was presumably a nod.

“P’raps we sits here and chats with it a bitsy, my precious,” it said. “It likes riddles, p’raps it does, does it?”

Poor Bilbo was quite confused. His head was still pounding, and now there was a strange creature, mostly hidden in the dark and only visible by the faint light of its eyes, that wanted to play a riddle-game with him.

_Do we… Do we say yes?_ the Took asked. _This is entirely out of the ordinary. I’ve no idea what to do._

_I suppose we might_ , the Baggins answered. _He did say that we look like a_ tasty morsel _, after all. I don’t like the idea of that._

_You think he’ll eat us?_

_Everything points to that, doesn’t it? And we can’t see it, apart from its eyes, so what else is there?_

“Very well,” Bilbo said reluctantly. It was probably safer to play along, all things considered. He tried for a moment to think of a riddle, but found that his head was fairly stuck on the possibility of being eaten. “You ask first.”

The creature’s eyes bobbed up and down in another nod. Bilbo was still somewhat flummoxed by the situation, but the first riddle was one that he had heard many times in his life.

“What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees? Up, up it goes, and yet never grows…”

“Easy,” Bilbo stated firmly. “Mountain, I suppose.”

_Whatever this creature has in mind, it’ll have to try harder if it wants to have us for a meal_ , the Baggins said confidently.

_Aye, well, that is if it doesn’t simply sneak up on us while we’re talking and strangle us_ , the Took muttered back.

“Does it guess easy?” the creature hissed pensively. “It must have a competition with us, my precious! If precious asks, and it doesn’t answer, we eats it, my precious.”

_I beg your pardon?_ the Baggins cried out in a shrill voice.

“If it asks us, and we doesn’t answer, then we does what it wants, eh?” the creature continued. “We shows it the way out, yes!”

_Oh, brilliant_ , the Took sighed. _To get out we need to win a riddle-game with a mad creature hiding in the dark. This is truly everything we always wanted._


	3. A Budding Friendship

Adventures really were not all the fun that his Tookish relatives had made them out to be, Bilbo decided as he dangled high up in the air where he desperately clung to Dori’s legs and prayed that he wouldn’t slip. They had found themselves in quite a terrifying situation after they escaped from the goblin tunnels; being chased by orcs and wargs was definitely not something that Bilbo particularly enjoyed. Things were made infinitely worse by Thorin deciding to charge against the large pale orc, and Bilbo had (in a moment of what he currently thought of as incredible stupidity) leapt into the fray to defend the injured dwarf.

Then came the eagles, and Bilbo truly thought that things couldn’t get much worse. At first he had been certain that they would be carried off to the eyries and eaten for dinner, but soon he noticed more eagles joining them and several of his friends being dropped onto the backs of the newcomers. Once an eagle flew closer to him and Dori, he took the chance and let go, feeling grateful for not falling hundreds of feet down and being smashed against the rocks.

As they landed upon the Carrock, Bilbo found himself nervously wondering if he should just leave. Thorin would not be happy once he woke up. But the hobbit stood there and watched as the injured dwarf was carefully lowered onto the stone and Gandalf rushed over to him to help him.

_We could just run_ , the Took suggested helpfully. _I can see a way down._

_Everyone would see us_ , the Baggins shot back. _And they would come after us. We have a contract to fulfil, remember? One that_ you _signed, I might add!_

_Who ever said that I am one to keep my promises?_ the Took argued. _I look after_ us _first, and other people second! And this is very much a situation that demands the first!_

Bilbo didn’t move from the spot, somewhat paralysed by trying to figure out what he ought to do. He simply watched as Gandalf carefully passed his hand over Thorin’s brow, whispering a few words. The dwarf slowly opened his eyes, blinking blearily a few times before he croaked:

“The Halfling?”

“He is here,” Gandalf answered gently. “Bilbo is quite safe.”

The dwarf struggled to his feet, giving Bilbo a dark glare.

“You!” he cried. “What were you doing?! You nearly got yourself killed!”

Bilbo stiffened. While he hadn’t expected Thorin to be particularly pleased, he certainly hadn’t expected being shouted at.

_There goes our chance of escape_ , the Took grumbled.

_Goodness, he’s really angry this time, isn’t he?_ the Baggins said weakly.

“Did I not say that you would be a burden?” Thorin slowly approached the hobbit, still with the same thunderous look on his face, and Bilbo took a step back. “Did I not say that you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?”

_That’s that, then_ , the Took sighed. _We’ll simply have to trudge the long way back home, unless he tosses us off the cliff. We won’t be travelling further with them._

_We_ saved _him_ , the Baggins argued. _He would have been dead if not for us. This isn’t fair!_

Thorin stepped closer. Suddenly the dwarf’s grim features lit up with a warm smile and he reached out and took a firm hold of the hobbit, pulling the smaller creature into a tight embrace.

“I have never been so wrong in all my life.”

Poor Bilbo could scarcely believe that he actually heard those words. Nor could he quite believe that the normally so grim dwarf was embracing him.

_I’m sorry, did the Old Took magically come back to life?_ the Took blurted out. _What just happened?_

_He’s… He’s saying that he was wrong about something_ , the Baggins mumbled. _Why is he saying that?_

_It’s a trick,_ the Took immediately hissed. _We’re going to get tossed over the cliff next, aren’t we?_

_Why is he hugging us?_ the Baggins whimpered. _Why is he_ hugging _us? What’s going on?_

Confused though he was, Bilbo carefully put his arms around Thorin. It seemed to be the only logical thing to do, not to mention that it seemed to make the dwarf hold him just a little bit tighter. When he finally did loosen his grip, he still kept his hands on Bilbo’s arms, only taking a small step back and giving him a smile.

“I am sorry I doubted you,” he said.

“No, I would have doubted me too,” Bilbo blurted out. He very nearly flinched at how ridiculous he sounded, but instead tried for a smile. “I’m… Well, I’m not a hero, or a warrior. Or even a burglar.”

_Just a bumbling fool who happened to do something right_ , the Baggins muttered. _We’re lucky we’re still alive._

“Hero, warrior or burglar, or merely a simple hobbit, I am still in your debt,” Thorin answered. “It was brave of you, though perhaps a little foolish.”

_Brave?_ the Took snorted. _We acted on impulse! What on earth were we supposed to do, let him be skewered?_

With the magnitude of his actions and Thorin’s words not quite having sunk in just yet, Bilbo simply grinned and shrugged.

“I’m half Took,” he stated. “Tooks do foolish things all the time.”

“Thorin is quite correct,” Gandalf said, smiling kindly at the hobbit. “You were brave, Bilbo. I’m sure your mother would have been proud.”

_Mother would have embraced us and scolded us for putting ourselves in harm’s way_ , the Baggins sighed. _And father would have done the same, as well as kept us from ever leaving the Shire in the first place…_

“I sincerely doubt that,” Bilbo mumbled. Then he looked around, frowning slightly. “Say, Gandalf… What do we do now? We can’t very well stay here, can we?”

“We need to keep moving,” Thorin interjected. “We have to be on our way.”

“Before we go anywhere, Óin should be allowed to examine you,” Gandalf told the dwarf-king sternly. “I may be able to lessen pain to some extent, but we must know what damage has been done to you.”

“Not here,” the old healer grunted. “We should get down to the river, in that case. At least then I could wash eventual gashes.”

It wasn’t without a little bit of grumbling and struggling that they made it down the unevenly cut stone-steps along the cliff’s side. Gandalf explained patiently when Bilbo asked that the steps had been carved into the rock by someone quite long ago, but would not answer further questions.

“Be glad that we escaped alive,” he told the hobbit. “And that you’ll have a chance to wash before we move on.”

Having his feet on the ground once more was more of a relief to the hobbit than he had expected, and he spent quite a long while enjoying bathing his feet in the river simply for the sake of feeling something else than rock under them. He kept a careful eye on Thorin while the dwarf was being examined by Óin as well, and it seemed that the attack had actually done less damage than expected.

“Nothing broken, and at least nothing more than a gash here and there,” the old healer said as he prodded at Thorin’s ribs. “Nothing too bad. But it’ll be difficult to take care of the wounds without any supplies. Cleaning them is no problem, but we need to bind them. A poultice of some sort would not be amiss…”

“We have no supplies for a poultice,” Thorin said through gritted teeth, trying to squirm out of reach from Óin’s prodding fingers. “In fact, we have no supplies at all, if you have forgotten.”

“I am nearly deaf, not dumb,” Óin grumbled, forcing his patient to sit still. “Now stop your squirming, or you’ll make me poke a few more holes in you!”

“There is somewhere we can go,” Gandalf said suddenly, drawing the attention of the entire Company. “A place where we might find shelter and food, as well as any other necessary supplies. It is to the north of here, and once we have all rested a little I shall lead you there.”

_See, that would be a very good sign_ , the Baggins sighed, _if someone else than Gandalf had said it._

_He said_ might _, I really don’t like that_ , the Took hissed. _We_ might _find somewhere to rest, but we_ might _also accidentally starve to death._

_We can’t know yet, can we?_ the Baggins huffed. _He wouldn’t intentionally let any of us starve in the wild – he wouldn’t even have led us into that mountain pass if he knew about the goblins having their front porch in that cave._

_It’s Gandalf_ , the Took muttered. _He doesn’t_ intend _for anything to go wrong, but it just sort of happens._

Bilbo stared intently at the wizard while they rested, trying to figure out just what sort of place they’d be led to. Rivendell had been a good place, the mountain-pass less so. Though perhaps the mountain-pass could have been better if Fili and Kili hadn’t found the “front porch” of the goblins.

“Where will we be going?” he finally asked. “Is there a village of some sort around here?”

Gandalf simply answered that he would tell them on the way there. Somehow, Bilbo did not find that comforting.

 

* * *

 

 

_Oh, come off it, he’s not so bad_ , the Took was saying cheerfully. _He’s just huge, and maybe a little bit uninhibited._

_Allow me to repeat myself_ , the Baggins growled. _He is an enormous bear-like man that can turn into an actual bear. He scares me. Who’s to say he won’t snap and have us for breakfast? I say we get out of here now, dwarves be damned!_

_You were the one insisting on fulfilling the contract_ , the Took shot back. _I said we could leave, but no, you thought that would be a bad idea. And besides, was Gandalf wrong? Not in the slightest! We have shelter, we’ve been fed…_

_We are in the house of a skinchanger_ , the Baggins cried. _And you do not find this at all concerning?!_

Bilbo sighed deeply where he sat out on the porch of Beorn’s house. It was a strange thing, to be in the house of a skinchanger. Even stranger was that they were in a skinchanger’s house alive, with the owner’s permission. He wasn’t certain yet whether or not he could trust the huge man, but so far they had not been harmed. The dwarves seemed quite content with their surprisingly accommodating host, and Gandalf was definitely pleased with that they had not been tossed out.

There were heavy steps behind him, and he turned his head to see Thorin come out from the house. The dwarf gave him a smile and nodded in greeting, and Bilbo gave him an uncertain smile in return. He still had no idea how he ought to act around the dwarf-king, especially not after the Carrock.

“You seem lost in thought, master Baggins,” Thorin said suddenly as he took a seat next to the hobbit. “Might I ask what’s troubling you?”

Bilbo hesitated somewhat before he answered:

“We are in the house of a skinchanger.”

“So we are.” Thorin raised an eyebrow. “What of it?”

“A _skinchanger_ ,” Bilbo repeated fervently, finding his courage at the notion of not even Thorin realising why the skinchanger was something of a bother. “A massive man who can turn into a massive bear.”

“Again, what of it?”

“Am I the only one who is worried by this?” Bilbo cried out. “Who’s to say we won’t be eaten alive or killed in our sleep? He certainly doesn’t seem to like strangers!”

“Bears are more in the habit of eating berries or fish,” Thorin said calmly. “Of course they’ll hunt large game if they can, or scavenge carrion.”

“That doesn’t help!”

_Oh yes, large game_ , the Baggins said anxiously. _Carrion. We_ are _carrion to that… that_ thing _!_

“Beorn won’t harm any of us,” Thorin sighed. “He has not done anything so far, not more than feed us and ensure that we have somewhere dry and safe to sleep. In fact, he has barely been present. What on earth worries you so?”

“The fact that he turns into an enormous bear!” Bilbo glared at the dwarf and crossed his arms. He couldn’t see what in his argument was so difficult to understand. “And the fact that we are all, save for Gandalf, rather small people! He calls me _little bunny_ , because I _am_ as small as a bunny to him!”

Thorin made a very poor attempt at concealing a snorting laugh as a cough at the mention of Bilbo’s new nickname, and then seemed to struggle to keep himself from smiling.

“You needn’t worry, little bunny,” he said, amusement bleeding into his voice despite his efforts. “He won’t eat you. If anything, Fili and Kili will sacrifice themselves before that happens.”

“I _know_ you’re laughing at me,” the hobbit hissed. “I don’t want anyone to sacrifice themselves for me, I just want to feel safe!”

“And you can feel safe here,” the dwarf answered, still trying to keep himself from laughing. “Calm yourself, Bilbo, you won’t get hurt. Neither will anyone else.”

Bilbo sat there, arms still crossed, and glared indignantly at the leader of the Company.

“We’ve seen neither hide nor hair of our host in two days,” he snapped. “What on earth do you think that means? Certainly nothing good!”

“We’ll find out eventually,” Thorin chuckled. “We can’t always know where he goes. Besides, you’ve said nothing of Gandalf being gone today.”

“Because that’s what Gandalf does,” Bilbo cried. “He disappears at random intervals! You’ve noticed this! Before the trolls, which no one noticed, and in the goblin tunnels!”

“Oh, and him you trust?” The dwarf grinned at the chagrined look on the hobbit’s face. “See? Gandalf has already proven himself _less_ reliable than our host, and still it is said host that you distrust.”

_Would we have_ survived _not trusting Gandalf?_ the Took asked airily. _Not really. ‘Best trust the wizard, he mostly knows what he’s doing’, as grandfather Gerontius said._

_Mostly? Would you like to remind me what put that word into that sentence?_ the Baggins asked drily.

_Well, according to grandfather, that would’ve been the moonshine_ , the Took stated sheepishly. _But_ no one _can really be trusted after having some of that, so it evens out, doesn’t it?_

_No. No, it doesn’t._

_Oh._

Bilbo looked away, grumbling somewhat mutinously at the thought of not trusting the wizard. Gandalf had been the oldest and dearest friend of the Old Took – he was a friend of the family, and hobbits stuck to family-friends like tree-sap to hair. True, Bilbo may have been uncertain when the wizard appeared on his doorstep and declared that an adventure was in order, but he had never distrusted him.

“For your information,” he ground out, “Gandalf is a friend of the family. I trust him completely; though he may have somewhat unorthodox ways of repaying that trust.”

“Unorthodox?” Thorin snorted. “Surely that is to put things mildly.”

“I never said it wasn’t,” Bilbo muttered. “But I trust him, and that’s the point.”

“Because he’s a friend of the family.”

“Because I _know_ him. Somewhat. Better than I know Beorn, at least.”

“Which is to say not at all?”

_Getting cheeky, isn’t he?_ the Took muttered.

_I’d say it’s better than when he was constantly angry_ , the Baggins admitted.


	4. Dark Paths Under Trees

Mirkwood was not a nice place.

At any other point in life, Bilbo may well have left his thoughts of the forest at that. He had done so after his Brandybuck-cousins told him about the Old Forest, and he had done so after several of his mother’s stories. The story of the Mewlips came to mind; that one had given him nightmares for a week, but after that he’d been able to state that it was just not a nice story. Mirkwood had a strange way of _demanding_ his attention and demanding something more of his thoughts. Though in hindsight, he reasoned, that could well be because he was _in_ the forest, and had been for at least a week. It had probably been longer, but he had already lost count.

 _Is it even day anymore?_ the Baggins asked. _I can’t tell. It’s pitch black in here._

 _I think it’s evening_ , the Took answered with a hint of doubt. _Though I can’t be certain. I’ve been going by Bofur’s sense of time since we entered the forest._

“Bofur?” Bilbo asked carefully, tapping the dwarf on the shoulder. “Do you know what time of day it is?”

Bofur hummed and looked up towards the interwoven branches above them, squinting to see something in the dark.

“It should be about twilight,” he answered. “I can still see the branches, though it’s becoming difficult.”

 _Bofur’s sense of time_ , the Baggins said grimly. _Oh yes, the same sense of time that everyone else in this forsaken place has – whether or not they can see the bloody branches!_

Bilbo sighed softly and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I can see them too,” he grumbled. “I meant, do you think we’ll be stopping soon?”

The dwarf gave him a grin, though it fell short of being as cheerful as usual.

“I hope so,” he answered. “Thorin seems determined to move a while longer, at least.”

Poor Bilbo sighed again. That was what it always came down to – whether or not Thorin thought that they had made good progress that day. Merely two days before (or at least he thought it had been two days), the dwarf king had kept them all moving until well into the night and had only allowed them sleep when not even dwarven eyes, used to dark places, could see the path anymore. The hobbit had stumbled straight into the leader’s back several times when Thorin had been forced to pause to figure out which way the path turned. And today they had been urged out of their bedrolls at an hour that one could only assume was well before dawn; they had been trudging along the path all day, and spirits were low.

“This is ridiculous,” the hobbit said. “We can’t keep moving forever!”

He quickened his pace, despite his legs protesting vehemently, and elbowed his way past several of the dwarves until he reached Thorin’s side.

“We have to stop, Thorin,” he said firmly, tugging at Thorin’s sleeve to draw his attention. “Evening is already falling, and we’re all tired. Look at poor Ori!” He gestured in the mentioned dwarf’s general direction, or what he thought was the general direction – in the gloom, it was becoming difficult to tell some of the dwarves apart. “He’s been stumbling and nearly falling over for hours already!”

“We need to get a little further,” Thorin answered without so much as a glance in the hobbit’s direction. “We’ve already wasted a lot of time.”

“But we must rest,” Bilbo snapped. “Thorin, even you can barely manage to stumble forward! If we rest now, we’ll be able to continue a little longer tomorrow!”

“The lad’s right, Thorin.” Balin patted Bilbo’s shoulder and gave the hobbit a small tired, but grateful, smile. “We need to stop. Surely you can see that no one has the energy to go on.”

Thorin still would not look at them, but his pace slowed somewhat.

 _If he doesn’t stop, I vote we simply lay down and go to sleep right here and catch up in the morning_ , the Took groused. _We’re exhausted as it is._

 _Right here?_ the Baggins asked nervously. _Alone? I’m not certain about that…_

“That’s it,” Dwalin’s voice rumbled just behind them. “We’re stopping for the night. You go on if you’d like, Thorin, but I’m not taking another step.”

The rest of the Company froze momentarily; Thorin stopped and turned to glare at the burly dwarf who now threw his pack to the ground and grinned at him.

“What’re you going to do?” Dwalin asked with a somewhat mocking tone to his voice. “Drag me along? You’re so exhausted you’d give up after two steps.”

Thorin’s eyes flickered over the rest of his companions, who studiously tried to look away. Bilbo felt somewhat torn. Thorin was the leader, after all, and if he said to go on they probably should. But at the same time, rest was so desperately tempting.

“The burglar’s got the right idea,” the tattooed dwarf continued calmly. “So does Balin. Let’s get some rest now – we’ve not lost any time as it is, you’ve kept us walking beyond what any of us have the strength for.”

Finally the dwarf-king’s eyes settled on Bilbo, who fought the urge to start squirming where he stood.

 _Oh yes, point us out, Dwalin_ , the Took grumbled. _Why did he have to go and do that? I was just starting to like Thorin! Now he’s going to be snappy again!_

 _Don’t be so hasty_ , the Baggins admonished. _Look at him – he’s just as exhausted as we are, if not more. Remember that he had the last watch the other night? He’s been awake for a longer time than anyone else. Perhaps he wants to be convinced to stop?_

Bilbo met Thorin’s gaze and gave him a tentative smile.

“Thorin, please, we need to rest,” he said carefully. “So do you. Is it worth continuing and losing the path in the dark? It was close enough last time. Please, let’s stop for today.”

One by one, the members of the Company dropped their packs on the ground, and after a long moment of silence, Thorin followed suit.

“Nori,” he sighed. “You’ve got first watch tonight. Óin’s second, and Bofur takes third.”

“We know the schedule,” Nori barked. “Now stop your yapping and let’s eat, I’m starving!”

 

* * *

 

 

 _I think we’ve done pretty well, all things considered_ , the Took stated in a relatively sunny tone. _Killed spiders, took charge of the situation…_

 _Oh yes, and failed to notice a dwarf was missing_ , the Baggins grumbled. _I_ tried _to say that something was wrong and that someone was gone! But no, you had to take over with your stupid heroics!_

 _Stupid?! My so-called heroics saved everyone’s lives,_ the Took snapped back. _You are simply jealous!_

 _We’re in a bloody dungeon, trying to find said missing dwarf_ , the Baggins hissed. _Would you pipe down and behave like an adult for once?_

Bilbo forced back an annoyed grumble as he wandered into another dead end. A map would really have been of some use; sadly, the elves didn’t need one in their own home, and therefore none existed. The poor hobbit had looked. Several times. Getting lost in the dungeons was starting to grate on his nerves as well as his stomach. He’d managed to find a guard-room earlier and swiped some bread that had been left behind, but that had to be hours ago by now – at least if he went only by how empty his stomach felt, though that could also be a small leftover reminder of the trek through the forest.

So far, he had found twelve out of thirteen dwarves. All twelve had been the ones he had rescued from the spiders, and all had asked him if he knew where their relatives were and where Thorin was. He’d been able to answer one question, but not the other. In fact, it was only very recently that he’d found out that Thorin really was in the dungeons. A part of him (most likely the Took-side) was very relieved to know that the leader of the Company still lived; the other part (definitely the Baggins-side) was weak at the knees at the thought of having to search through a large unknown part of the lower dungeons, alone and quite possibly running the risk of being found by elves, to find him.

He’d been hugging the wall for the past hour or so, ready to press firmly against it and hold his breath if more elves came his way, and had taken at least five wrong turns. The place was an absolute maze.

 _Maybe they’ve simply utilized a natural cave-system_ , the Baggins suggested. _Some of this seems to have been simply smoothened out a little bit._

 _We don’t know anything about stonework_ , the Took sighed in response. _All we know is that it’s not goblin-tunnels, and that’s something I’m thankful for._

 _But we described the layout of the place to Nori and to Bofur_ , the Baggins argued. _Or at least as best as we could. And they suggested something along those lines._

_It’s not for hobbits to think about stonework, or at least not hobbits outside of Scary’s quarry!_

_You’re starting to sound like a proper Baggins. It’s frightening._

_I know, and I dearly wish you would shut your pie-hole and let me go back to being a Took._

Bilbo shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. He had to focus on finding Thorin – there needed to be some sort of direction to his actions, not just mindlessly wandering the palace of the Elvenking.

He turned another corner, and then paused and listened. He could swear that he’d heard something a little further away…

“What does it matter? If I simply tell him everything… No, no, he would turn it all to his own advantage, wouldn’t he? We’d be used, as always.”

The hobbit frowned and snuck a little further down the dark corridor. The voice had to be Thorin’s; surely no elf had such a deep voice. But it sounded strange somehow, and the way the dwarf spoke signalled that he was not his usual confident self.

“But if I tell him, he might let me go. He might tell me if they’ve found the others, or if they all lay dead in the forest. Ah, Durin’s beard, how can I think of the Mountain now? What if they’re all dead? What if they’ve starved to death? I cannot go home without them. Dís will have my head. And Glóin’s wife and son, they’ll be alone. And Bombur’s family… Mahal wept, what am I to do…”

Bilbo rounded another corner and found another dead end with a single door. There was no light aside from a torch on the wall, but the voice definitely came from the other side of the door. He snuck closer, listening to the poor dwarf berating himself for becoming separated from his friends, and finally stood on his toes to reach the keyhole and whispered:

“Thorin? Are you there?”

Immediately, the dwarf’s talking ceased. The silence was so deafening that Bilbo almost thought that he’d imagined the voice all along. But he shook his head and repeated his question a little louder, and this time the occupant of the cell deigned to respond.

“Who’s there?” Thorin asked sharply. “Bilbo? Is that you?”

 _I suppose isolation does drive people somewhat to the edge of sanity_ , the Baggins stated drily. _Well, I certainly hope he’s relieved that we took the time to find him at all instead of leaving this horrible place without him._

 _He who falls behind is left behind?_ the Took asked with only a weak hint of mirth. _You seem to be turning into a Took._

“Yes, it’s me,” Bilbo answered, sighing in relief. “Thank goodness! I thought I wouldn’t find you, or that it was only a rumour that there was another dwarf down here.”

There was a scuffling noise in the cell, and after a moment the hobbit could see Thorin’s eye peering through the keyhole.

“Where are you?” the dwarf asked. “I can’t see you.”

 _The bloody ring_ , the Baggins hissed. _We’re still wearing it!_

 _We can’t take it off now_ , the Took grumbled. _What if someone comes this way?_

“I promise, I’m here even if you can’t see me,” Bilbo said quickly, hoping to soothe any possible fears the dwarf might harbour. “I’ve… Well, I acquired something in the Misty Mountains, the others know about it by now. It can turn me invisible.”

“Invisible? What in-“

“We need to be quick, Thorin! The others are alright, they’re unharmed. But we don’t know what to do. I’m trying to find a way out, and I’m talking to Nori and Bofur and Balin about ideas. But you are still the leader, and I need to know what you want out of this too.” The hobbit paused and glanced over his shoulder, listening intently for a moment. Elven footsteps were so light that it was difficult to hear them, and the guards didn’t always speak when they went somewhere. “Balin said that one way out would be for them to make a deal with the Elvenking, but he said that he couldn’t make this decision without knowing your view of this. Bofur says that he can’t do anything without a pickaxe as it is, and even with one it’d make too much noise. And Nori doesn’t have a first-hand view of it all, he only has what I’ve told him. He’s not certain we can actually get out of here.”

“I’ve considered Balin’s view myself,” Thorin muttered slowly, still seeming puzzled about the hobbit’s invisibility. “But I doubt that it’ll be the right thing to do. Thranduil isn’t easy to deal with, and never has been. Not to mention that he does not look kindly upon dwarves. An attempt to make a deal would end badly for us.”

“But how can you be certain?” Bilbo asked weakly, the hope of a relatively easy escape so quickly snatched away. “Thorin, is it entirely impossible? Elves are supposed to be kind, not to mention merciful…”

“Wood-elves,” Thorin said bitterly, “have a tendency to be the contrary. Less wise and more dangerous. Please, trust someone who has dealt with them before, in particular with Thranduil who is not like most elves here.”

“Not like- What is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s different from them, for all that he lives among them. I don’t know the details, but my father and grandfather said that he was not hewn from the same rock as his subjects.”

“That makes no sense.”

“What was it you said when we rested in Beorn’s home? ‘As different as peas and apples’?”

“Elves are elves,” Bilbo argued. “He can’t be _that_ different.”

“Bilbo, please, you must trust me,” Thorin sighed. “I will not attempt to negotiate with him, not for passage to my own homeland. He will ask for everything that I cannot give, or force us to turn back because of the dragon. Thranduil is nothing like Elrond, and even the Lord of Rivendell tried to convince us to return home.”

Bilbo hesitated. He had heard of the difficulties the dwarves of Erebor had faced when they were forced away from their home, and he had heard of the Elvenking’s refusal to lend them aid. Thorin’s reluctance to negotiate with someone who turned their back on the dwarves was understandable. But he, Bilbo, was only a hobbit who had always been able to deal with neighbours and relatives who had given him unfair deals in the past. One refusal had never meant that they would not ever help again. Balin’s idea of a deal had seemed very reasonable, and he’d hoped that Thorin would see reason as well. But it seemed that Nori’s assessment of Thorin had been correct.

“Balin might know Thorin better than I do, but not trusting someone completely has its benefits,” the thief had said when they last spoke and Bilbo had told him of Balin’s idea. “It means you won’t be entirely blind to certain traits. Thorin will be about as willing to make a deal with Thranduil as Ori is to burn books and scrolls. _If_ he is down here somewhere, he might have considered the idea. But he’ll have disregarded it as well. Thorin doesn’t trust easily, and to him a broken trust is as bad as having stabbed your own kin in the back. And Thranduil broke that trust many years ago.”

The hobbit peered through the keyhole again and saw how Thorin had started pacing back and forth in the cell. He didn’t seem quite as hopeless as before, and the news that his comrades were safe and sound and were trying to think of a way out had apparently revived his energy somewhat.

“There _must_ be another way out,” the dwarf argued. “There simply must be. No fortress is entirely impenetrable, no place is impossible to leave. If Nori was able to leave every possible cell in Ered Luin whenever he was caught, then we can leave here.”

“Those cells were guarded by dwarves and not elves,” Bilbo said wearily. “Thorin, what exactly are we supposed to do? Nori is behind bars, and I’ve tried to find a way out for over a week now. The gates close by magic and will not open to anyone who does not know how. And I _don’t_.”

“I know you can find a way.”

Bilbo stared at the door in disbelief.

 _He didn’t just say that, did he?_ the Baggins groaned. _Those words did not just reach my ears, did they?_

 _He did_ , the Took sighed. _He said it. Damn it all, he said it._

“I’m not certain just what you believe about me, Thorin, but I am _not_ a wizard like Gandalf, and I am certainly _not_ an escape artist like Nori,” Bilbo blurted out. “How on earth am I supposed to find a way?”

“You’ve proven yourself over and over again, Bilbo,” Thorin answered, giving a soft chuckle. “We all trust you. _I_ trust you. I know that you can do this.”

 _He trusts us_ , the Baggins sighed. _He actually trusts us._

 _Now’s not the time for wool-gathering about the possible implications of that statement_ , the Took hissed. _If he trusts us, we need to get started._

“Please,” the dwarf continued. “Please, Bilbo, at least try. For me. I won’t give up hope until you tell me that it is truly impossible, not until you’ve done all in your power.”

And Bilbo’s reluctance crumbled.

“I’ll try,” the hobbit said slowly. “For you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourselves. I am so sorry.


	5. Trust and Dragons

_We can not let him keep playing the trust-card, not like this_ , the Took snapped. _Look at everything that’s happened! Careening down a river in barrels, very nearly tossed out of a town that was our only chance for food and rest, and now this!_

 _‘This’ being us having to enter the tunnel first?_ the Baggins muttered. _I’m not more pleased about this than you are, but he’s right. We do have a contract to fulfil. Thorin is, heavens save us, correct in that we must earn our reward._

_I am not denying that! I am merely stating that if he continues saying that he trusts us and needs us, only to make us do something like this, it doesn’t seem like such a good idea!_

_He_ does _need us! He_ does _trust us! That doesn’t mean that we have a choice, since we signed the contract in the first place!_

Bilbo took a deep breath. After everything they had been through together, he had to admit that it seemed logical to go through with his task. He was well within his right to refuse, which he had already told them all; he had gotten them out of more than one mess on his own already, neither of which were in the original bargain, though perhaps it was petty to see it that way. He had signed the contract to be their Burglar, after all, and to be the first to go into the Mountain. It didn’t seem fair to say no when they stood on the doorstep.

Barely ten minutes had passed since they had opened the tunnel. Thorin had said his piece, and Bilbo had asked for a moment to think about and prepare for what he needed to do. Then, the dwarf-king had taken him aside and held a whispered discussion with him, the goal of which seemed to be to convince the hobbit.

“I have the utmost faith in your abilities, Bilbo,” Thorin had said quietly. “I trust you with my life, with the lives of my friends and kin. There’s not a single dwarf in this Company who would not say the same. I know you hesitate, and it does not surprise me – a dragon is more than merely a valid reason to do so. But please, I beg of you. Do not say no.”

Now, the dwarf stood before him, waiting for his answer. And the hobbit felt surprisingly torn. His mother and father had both cautioned him against doing something simply because he was told that someone trusted him or that ‘only he could do it’. He stared at the dwarf, watching as the hopeful look on Thorin’s face slowly began to crumble as his answer was delayed.

“I signed your contract,” Bilbo finally said; seeing Thorin’s more crestfallen look made him feel like he had just tossed something very dear to him down a cliff. “I signed it, and I am a gentlehobbit of my word. As I said, I would be within my right to refuse. But I don’t believe I shall.”

“You’ll go, then?” Thorin asked, hope immediately returning to his eyes. “You’ll enter the tunnel?”

“I believe I just stated that I will,” Bilbo muttered. “You don’t need to look so sad, I never said I really _would_ say no.”

 _This is ridiculous_ , the Took snapped. _We can’t be affected by him like this! We can absolutely not base any decisions on what he says or what look he gives us!_

 _You needn’t be so snappy about it_ , the Baggins sighed. _He trusts us, and of course that matters. He doesn’t want us to leave, especially not now when we’re so close to his home!_

 _And what on earth should that matter to us?_ the Took cried. _Bullroarer’s whiskers, can you hear yourself? He wants us to go down this tunnel alone, when there is a dragon waiting at the end, with only his_ trust _as collateral!_

 _Because we were hired to do so_ , the Baggins hissed back. _And because we are the only ones with a magic ring that can turn us invisible. We made a promise, if you recall, and we should keep it!_

“I’ll go,” Bilbo sighed once Thorin turned to speak with the others. “But I really wish I wouldn’t.”

He thought of his parents, and somehow he knew that neither of them would have agreed to let him go down this tunnel alone; even Belladonna, who had been as adventurous as a Took could possibly be. Contract or no, they would have made him turn back, dragged him if they had to. But now he couldn’t leave. He’d gone this far, and he was by now fairly stuck.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, thief! I smell you, and feel your air. I hear your breath. Come along, help yourself again – there is plenty and to spare!”

Bilbo shook where he stood in the shadows. Going down the tunnel a first time had scared him. This was the second time, and he was frightened beyond words. The dragon was awake, and it knew he was there. In his thoughts, he blessed the ring he wore that was apparently powerful enough to keep a dragon from being entirely certain of where he was.

 _‘Come along’, eh? Out into the light, of course, where he’ll find us and snatch us up for a quick appetizer_ , the Took snarled, hackles risen partly in fear and partly in anger over the dragon’s assumption that Bilbo would be such a fool. _I don’t like this thing. Overgrown bloody lizard…_

 _A firebreathing lizard, at that_ , the Baggins whimpered. _Oh, why did we go down here again? This was the worst idea we’ve had so far!_

Bilbo was, all in all, much inclined to agree with the assessment his Baggins-side had just made. To go into a dragon’s lair once was folly. To go in twice, and after having wakened the dragon, was suicide. But keeping quiet and pray that the beast wouldn’t figure out where he was based on smell alone would not do. Smaug had acknowledged his presence, and allowed the hobbit to know so.

“No thank you, o Smaug the Tremendous,” he said with a somewhat shaky voice, trusting that the echo in the large chamber would be enough to keep the beast from tracking him by sound. “I did not come for presents – I only wished to have a look at you and see if you were truly as great as the tales tell. I did not believe them.”

 _Oh, yes, lie to a dragon_ , the Baggins groaned. _How does that seem like a good idea?!_

 _Dragon or no, I am not going down without a fight_ , the Took hissed angrily. _With any luck, we’ll stick in his throat and he’ll choke._

“Do you now?” the dragon asked, sounding somewhat flattered.

Bilbo drew another shaky breath, feeling absurdly pleased at having put that tone to the beast’s voice.

“Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, o Smaug, the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities,” the hobbit said. That title was not even a stretch, according to the stories the dwarves had told him. This chamber was all the hobbit had seen of Erebor thus far, and even here it seemed that a lot had been destroyed by the dragon’s initial rampage.

“You have nice manners, for a thief and a liar,” Smaug snarled, and Bilbo’s courage sunk somewhat at the tone. “You seem familiar with my name, but I don’t seem to remember smelling you before. Who are you and where do you come from, may I ask?”

 _Your turn_ , the Took decided. _We can’t let him know the entire truth._

 _Refusing is a bad idea, I suppose_ , the Baggins said shakily. _Alright, alright. I’ll try another riddle-game._

“You may indeed!” Bilbo grinned to himself where he stood hidden, courage briefly returning to him, and thought of his long journey to the Mountain. There was plenty to draw from if he had no wish to tell the nasty creature his real name. “I come from under the hill, and over hills and under hills my path led. And through the air! I am he that walks unseen.”

“So I can well believe,” the dragon snorted. “But that is hardly your usual name.”

“I am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the stinging fly,” Bilbo continued. “I was chosen for the lucky number.”

“Lovely titles,” Smaug drawled lazily. “But lucky numbers don’t always come off.”

Bilbo bit his lip. It seemed that his riddling was intriguing to the dragon, though the beast seemed not quite so convinced by it all. Best take it up a notch.

“I am he that buries his friends alive,” the hobbit continued, “and drowns them and draws them alive again from the water. I came from the end of a bag, but no bag went over me.”

“These don’t sound so creditable.”

“I am the friend of bears and the guest of eagles,” Bilbo finished. “I am ring-winner and luckwearer, and I am barrel-rider.”

“That’s better,” the dragon crowed, and there was something in the beast’s voice that made the poor hobbit feel like he had just been dunked in cold filthy water. “But don’t let your imagination run away with you!”

 _I don’t like the way he said that_ , the Baggins said nervously. _Oh, I must’ve said something wrong…_

 _Wrong or not, you did what you could_ , the Took grumbled. _Enough fretting. There is just one more thing we need to make him do for us, and that’s showing us that shiny undercoat of his…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that "Initial comedy - fading into drama" tag? It starts here with this chapter. It gets worse. I'm sorry.  
> Also, sorry for a very short one this time around, but the next one is a bit longer, I promise!


	6. Broken Trust

_All I’m saying is that Thorin will figure out that we have it_ , the Baggins argued angrily. _We can’t keep it! It’s not ours to keep!_

_We chose our fourteenth, and that’s that_ , the Took snapped. _Besides, what are we supposed to say if we hand it over? ‘So very sorry, found it when we passed through the treasure chamber and you dwarves were cowering in the tunnel after the dragon was gone, and I just so happened to very conveniently forget to give it to you and decided that I may as well keep it for a bit’?_

_We chose our fourteenth without asking if this was part of the deal_ , the Baggins snarled. _We can just tell him that we found it in a corner they haven’t searched!_

_Oh yes! Lying to the angry dwarf_ , the Took cried. _That is a brilliant idea! We’ll be killed without a doubt, and once we go where mother and father are we can tell them that we thought it was going to pacify him!_

_It’s better than lying to a bloody dragon! He’s going to find out all the same! We can’t keep it!_

_You were the one who said he wouldn’t be better off with it!_

_I know what I said, you infuriating-_

_Then why don’t you just-_

Bilbo groaned quietly and leant back against the stone wall, vaguely considering slamming his head against it in an attempt to make his mind stop whirling. He had been sitting like this for goodness knew how many hours, all alone while his companions probably still searched in the treasure chamber.

The time after the dragon’s death had not been good. And that was putting things very mildly. The dwarves and the hobbit had barricaded themselves inside the Mountain, despite said hobbit’s protests against such a course of action. The few hours they had managed to spend on Ravenhill had been wonderful; or at least, out in the open air and in the sun. But now they were stuck here in the dark and dank caves that Thorin called his kingdom, and the only way out was across the wall now built before the gates. Things had not gotten better when Thorin showed a distinct lack of interest in anything else than the hoard of treasure; the dwarf’s temper was quicker than ever, and it worsened for every day that passed without a sign of the Arkenstone.

Hence why Bilbo now sat alone and fretted over what he should say or do. He normally kept the gem hidden in one of the packs rescued from their destroyed campsite, though he never dared to leave it there. He’d put it in his pocket and carry it with him when he wandered the dark halls, but he still feared that the rest of the Company would find out. As much as he knew that some of the dwarves worried for their leader’s sanity, they would surely not take it well if they found out that their resident burglar had kept the stone for so long without a word.

“Burglar indeed,” he sighed, breaking his silence at last. “What manner of burglar becomes trapped in the place he broke into, with the treasure hidden in his pocket? Oh, I wish I had just given it to Thorin when we were on Ravenhill! What am I to do with this? The only thing this stone will do is get me killed, or worse.”

After a good while longer of having his thoughts spin like this, he got to his feet and decided to head back to the others. There were only a few areas that he had dared to venture into, and he’d made sure to mark them in different ways to be able to find his way back to them; sometimes he’d built tiny cairns as markers, sometimes he had used stones to scratch markings on the walls. Now he wandered through dark and empty corridors, looking sadly at the cold halls and wondering what it all might have looked like once upon a time. Thorin had not been very old when Smaug came, and what he remembered he seemed to guard as jealously as he did the treasure. The few questions the hobbit had dared to ask had never received an answer.

He was still a short distance away from the treasure chamber when Fili rounded the corner and came towards him. For a moment Bilbo felt a pang of sadness at the sight of Fili alone, for at the start of the journey it was rare indeed to see the dwarf-prince without his younger brother in tow. But since the arrival in Erebor and the subsequent destruction of Smaug, the brothers had grown apart somewhat. Kili seemed more wont to spend time in the treasure chamber and help his uncle, while Fili seemed keener to explore the Mountain and keep away from the gold. The golden-haired dwarf-prince had accompanied Bilbo sometimes and helped him create his little markers.

“Bilbo,” the dwarf sighed. “Finally! I couldn’t figure out where you’d gone.”

“I was just having a look around,” Bilbo answered. “Why? I thought you’d do the same.”

“Well, I would have,” Fili admitted reluctantly. “But I didn’t get very far before Balin came to find me. Thorin wanted a word, apparently.”

Worry immediately came to Bilbo’s mind. Lately, the dwarf-king had taken to keeping a distance from the others and not speaking to them unless he needed to. He’d only call for one of them to question them on the progress of sorting the treasure, or to ask them if the gem had been found.

“He’s not happy, is he?” the hobbit sighed.

“It’s Thorin,” Fili said, his voice failing to convey any sense of humour. “Is he ever happy?”

Bilbo paused and gave Fili a long look. Neither of the princes of the line of Durin had yet abandoned the habit of referring to Thorin as “uncle” rather than by name. That Fili took such a determined step away from any hint of relation to the dwarf-king said much of what he thought of these recent changes.

“What does he want?” the hobbit asked suspiciously. “And please don’t tell me you’ve been looking for hours…”

“Not hours,” the dwarf objected weakly. “But a good long while now. I’d imagine he wants to talk to you about the same thing as the rest of us have heard already.”

“The rest of you? Kili as well?”

“I think so. At least he looked surprisingly downhearted the other day. I didn’t want to ask, he wouldn’t have said much anyway.”

The fact that both Fili and Kili had been questioned regarding the stone by now said quite a lot about the dwarf-king’s state of mind, and Bilbo couldn’t claim that he cared much for that change. And if Kili had looked downhearted, it seemed quite likely that the talk had not gone in the young prince’s favour.

Still speaking quietly to each other, Fili led Bilbo back towards the treasure chamber and to the platform overlooking the chamber where Thorin now spent most of his time. The dwarf-prince warned the hobbit that Thorin would not be in a good mood, and hadn’t been for all day.

“He hasn’t done anything bad yet,” he explained. “But he’s not… Well, he’s not himself. I’ve never seen him act this way before, not even when mother has argued with him. And he’s never acted like this towards Balin before either, he has never raised his voice at him like that before.”

“Your uncle doesn’t trust easily,” Bilbo muttered in response, remembering Nori’s words in the dungeons of the Elvenking. “And now he believes that his trust has been broken by someone he thought he knew. No, Fili, I don’t imagine he’ll have any kind words to say to anyone right now.”

Once they reached the stairs up to the platform, the young dwarf gave him a weak smile and patted his shoulder.

“He trusts you more than anyone else,” Fili said. “Maybe he’ll listen to you if you tell him that none of us have the stone.”

Poor Bilbo felt as though he had just been punched in the gut. He didn’t even bother to try for a smile.

_What about when he finds out that his trust was entirely misplaced?_   the Baggins asked weakly. _Oh, we’re done for, aren’t we?_

_That may have been the lowest blow we’ve ever gotten_ , the Took mused. _And it was entirely unintentional and meant to be supportive. Bravo, Fili. Ouch._

He took a deep breath and started to climb the stairs. While he didn’t like to think about it, Fili was right. Thorin did trust him, and had trusted him more than his own kin for a long while now. It was not Balin or Dwalin whom he sought for advice anymore, but rather the hobbit. Thus, chances were that the dwarf-king only wanted advice.

“Oh yes, of course that’s what he wants,” Bilbo muttered under his breath as he climbed the last few steps. “I really need to stop trying to make myself feel better about this…”

Well at the top, he looked around. Thorin stood by the platform’s edge, glaring sullenly at the enormous heaps of gold that stretched through the chamber; it seemed that he’d not heard the hobbit’s approach.

“You asked for me?” Bilbo ventured uneasily.

The dwarf started and turned to look at him, and for a moment the look on his face made Bilbo think that he was himself again. Then the guarded and cold look came back to Thorin’s face, and he simply nodded.

“I know I took long,” Bilbo rambled as he came to stand beside the dwarf. “I was wandering about again, and Fili didn’t know where I’d gone. There are so many passages, I’ve no clue how anyone was ever able to find their way in this Mountain. It must’ve been ridiculously difficult. Do you remember if there were any maps of the passageways at all? It would be fun to see if we could find them, Ori and Balin did find the old library still intact the other day.”

“We have no time for that,” Thorin stated firmly. “We need to focus our efforts here now.”

_‘Our efforts’, is it now? Because I’m not seeing him down there_ , the Baggins grumbled mutinously. _The others are exhausted!_

_Best not say anything about that_ , the Took muttered. _I don’t like the look on his face._

“I grow more certain with each passing day,” Thorin continued, stopping the hobbit from speaking a single word. “One of them has taken the stone. One of them has betrayed me.”

Poor Bilbo could only stare at the dwarf with a sinking feeling in his heart. This was why he’d been asked to come. Not to be lectured or interrogated, but to hear what suspicious thoughts Thorin nursed behind the backs of his own kin. The dwarf-king turned his head and looked back at the hobbit, seeing the look on his face and apparently interpreting it as shock.

“I did not wish to believe it either, Bilbo,” he said quietly, his voice very nearly sounding kind. “Mahal knows I wish it weren’t so. They are my kin, my friends. But we have searched everywhere, and there is no sign of the stone. One of them must have found it and taken it for their own.”

“You have questioned them, have you not?” Bilbo stuttered. “None of them could have given any sign of having it, or you would have reclaimed it already.”

The look Thorin gave him was almost annoyed.

“I’ve questioned them, yes,” he sighed. “The one trait they’ve all shown collectively is fear. One of them has it, Bilbo, and the others must know who. They’re protecting the traitor.”

“Balin would never keep anything from you,” the hobbit insisted. “Neither would Dwalin, or your nephews.”

“Fili and Kili are young,” Thorin said with a derisive snort. “And easy to manipulate, whether they believe so themselves or not. Should someone have asked them not to tell me, they would do so out of a misplaced wish to aid a friend.”

“You’re their uncle,” Bilbo tried, giving a faint smile. “They listen to you above anyone else in this Company.”

“I have no doubt of Kili’s loyalty,” Thorin admitted. “But he follows his brother in all that he does, and Fili has drifted from my side.” He reached out and placed one heavy hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. “My sister’s eldest listens to few but for me and his mother. But he’ll heed you, as he has for the entire journey. Speak with him for me, Bilbo. Try to make him see reason. I will be forgiving, so long as he does not lie to me.”

_That’s it, we’re dead if he ever finds out_ , the Baggins groaned. _We can’t keep the stone, but we can’t let him know we had it either. We’ve been lying to his face since we found it._

_What, you mean you doubted that he’d kill us?_ the Took sniped back. _Some help you are. Of course he’s going to be angry!_

Bilbo took a deep breath to steady himself and hoped that the stone wouldn’t give itself away somehow; it was only a gem, but still he felt almost as though it was sentient and would cry out from its hiding place in his pocket and draw Thorin’s attention.

“I’ll do what I can,” he promised vaguely. “But Thorin, there are so many cracks in the floor after the dragon’s rampage. Maybe the stone has fallen down one of them? It could be anywhere, and we’ve certainly not searched every little crevice in this chamber.”

For a long moment, the dwarf looked as though he wanted to slap the small creature before him for making the suggestion that he may have overlooked something; the poor hobbit squirmed where he stood, uneasy under the harsh stare. Then Thorin’s expression changed and he smiled, a kind and patient smile that felt so wrong given his current state of mind, and let his hand drift from Bilbo’s shoulder to stroke the hobbit’s cheek.

“You are a little marvel,” he said silently. “Ever so patient, ever so trusting. No wonder the others do not seem to worry about speaking with you. But yes, you are right. The stone is small enough to have fallen down one of the cracks. I’ll have Bofur, Bifur and Bombur widen a few to see at least how far they go.” He placed his hand at the nape of the hobbit’s neck and leant down to press his forehead to Bilbo’s. “Always you soothe my mind, amrâlimê.”

_What does that mean?_ the Baggins asked nervously. _I don’t like it when they say something in their language to us, we can’t understand them!_

_I don’t know, and I don’t care to find out_ , the Took answered. _I’d rather leave right now._

“You’ve been on edge lately,” Bilbo stuttered as he tried to quiet his racing thoughts. “And there is much that needs to be considered. I’ll help you as I am able.”

“And I value your help most of all,” Thorin stated, finally letting go and allowing the hobbit to take a step back. “As I value your company and your kind words.”

Not wanting to think of the implications of that statement, Bilbo gave a jittery grin and pointed towards the stairs.

“I should go,” he said quickly. “And see if I can help the others. And speak to Fili, of course, as you asked.”

Without waiting for an answer, he scurried away down the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Translations-  
> Amrâlimê - My Love
> 
> Surprise update! :D I've got Tuesday and Wednesday off from work, so I decided to give you guys a bit of a surprise today as this chapter did not require much editing. I'm sort of aiming to get the next one out on Wednesday at the latest, so we'll see how that goes!


	7. A Decision Is Made

Bilbo wanted to weep. He wanted to scream and cry and get it all out of his mind, but there was no sense to that. Everything had gone wrong, and all because he had not been honest. Perhaps, if he had only said something from the very start, none of this would have happened. Thorin laid on what was presumably his death-bed, and so did Fili and Kili. Bilbo himself had been exiled, declared a traitor and a thief, though the rest of the Company insisted time and again that Thorin had not meant it.

“You know he wasn’t himself,” Glóin told him when they sat together by one of the campfires. “You knew that better than the rest of us. Once he wakes, he’ll be begging you for forgiveness, you’ll see.”

 _Once he wakes_ , the Baggins repeated bitterly. _If he wakes at all._

 _We can’t stay, can we?_ the Took sighed. _No one wants a thief in their midst. We should leave. Go back to the Shire. It’s what we’ve wanted to do all along, anyway._

 _Go back to the Shire_ , the Baggins mumbled. _Back to Bag End. To our garden, to our books and our armchair…_

“I shouldn’t be here,” Bilbo answered quietly. “I shouldn’t have stayed for the battle either. Gandalf didn’t want me to. He wanted me away from here, safe and sound.”

“You’re not as weak as the wizard wanted to believe,” Glóin said firmly. “You grew in his absence. You had as much of a place in that battle as any of us.”

“Which is to say none at all,” Bilbo snapped, immediately regretting his tone. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… Oh, everything just went _wrong_. None of this was supposed to happen. Thorin was… He was too far gone to see reason, and I didn’t know. I should have known. I should have _realised_.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Glóin insisted. “You were faced with impossible odds, and you took a gamble. Mahal knows I would have done the same. _Should_ have done the same.”

“It was always up to me,” Bilbo protested. “It was me Thorin claimed to trust above all others, and I betrayed him. Do you know how long I carried that stone? I found it the last time we came through the tunnel and the dragon wasn’t there, when I went first into the hall. I had it all that time, it was in my pocket when we were at Ravenhill and received news of Smaug’s death. I could have given it to him then, but chose not to.”

“We all acted like fools, not you alone,” Glóin sighed. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, it won’t help. Thorin will be alright. So will Fili and Kili. At least so Óin claims.” He got to his feet and gave the hobbit a long look. With a small smile, he reached out and patted his shoulder. “Mahal guided us to you, and you gave us strength. Get some rest, halthith. You deserve it.”

Bilbo watched him leave, but not without a twinge of bitterness.

 _We gave them strength, did we?_ the Baggins snorted. _Oh yes, incredible. We ruined everything, that’s all we did._

 _We need to leave_ , the Took insisted. _We’ll be the last person Thorin will want to see if he wakes._

 _Can we get very far without someone catching up, though?_ the Baggins asked. _Gandalf will surely send someone after us, and so would the rest of the Company._

 _We can hide,_ the Took answered. _We have the ring, after all, and hobbits are born sneaky._

With that in his mind, Bilbo stuck his hand in his pocket. It would be simple, wouldn’t it? Just slip the little gold-band on his finger and disappear. No one would notice, not until someone looked for him. He could easily steal some food and supplies, true to his title as Burglar, and he’d be far away before anyone knew he was gone.

He took a deep breath to steel himself, smiled faintly and slipped the ring on his finger.

 

* * *

 

 

Bilbo had to force himself not to swear. He had made it a good distance into the dark reaches of Mirkwood (after some difficulty finding a way around the wetlands near the Long Lake), and had hoped that he would be quite safe for a time. The group of elves that had just called out to him had managed to crush that hope; he couldn’t simply slip on his ring now, not when they had already seen him.

 _Maybe they simply want to know why we’re alone_ , the Took suggested. _And perhaps they’ll offer an escort?_

 _I doubt it_ , the Baggins stated drily. _Look at their faces. They knew we’d be in the forest. We’ve been tracked._

“Hail, little master,” one elf said as they stopped by the hobbit’s side. “You seem to be a little out of your way.”

“That depends on to whom you speak,” Bilbo muttered to himself, and then gave a quick innocent smile to the elf. “Hail, master elf. Might I ask what made you stop me?”

“You are travelling through our lands,” the elf answered. “And you are doing so alone, without your companions.” At the feigned innocent look on the hobbit’s face, the elf raised an eyebrow. “You _are_ the Halfling that travelled with Thorin Oakenshield’s company, are you not?”

“I am a _hobbit_ , master, nothing else,” Bilbo grumbled. “But you do seem to know me, so I suppose it might be best if I admit to being that one. Hobbits are not known to travel beyond the borders of their homeland.”

“You have been asked for by many,” the elf said, not unkindly. “We were sent out by Mithrandir, though you may know him better as Gandalf. He worried for your safety and wished to know where you had gone.”

“Well,” Bilbo said, trying to keep a hint of bitterness from his voice, “you may tell Gandalf that I am quite safe and on my way home, now that you have found me.”

The elves glanced at each other, and there was no amusement in their eyes. They spoke silently to each other in their own tongue, and the leader gave a nod.

“Thorin Oakenshield also asked for you, as soon as he woke,” the elf admitted finally. “The camps were searched by the dwarves of the Company several times on his request, and-“

“Well, you might tell him as well that I am safe,” Bilbo interrupted. “Forgive me, master elf, but I really must be going. Daylight’s a-wasting, and I’d like to get a few more miles in before I rest.”

“I am afraid we were asked to bring you back to the camps,” the elf stated. “We cannot let you go further.”

 _Did I hear right?_ the Baggins hissed. _Did I really hear that? They_ cannot _let us go further._

 _You heard right_ , the Took muttered. _I don’t like this. What were they told?_

 _To take away our freedom, apparently_ , the Baggins snapped angrily. _Thorin’s idea, I shouldn’t wonder!_

“And what would you do to stop me?” Bilbo asked, his voice sharp with anger and suspicion. “Tie me up in a sack? Deliver me in chains? Such a fine picture that would make of you elves, especially after your lot already imprisoned my companions once! Friend of the family or no, Gandalf has no say in what I choose to do!”

“We do not wish to rob you of your freedom,” the elf protested, seeming almost hurt at the accusation. “But Mithrandir said that either we find you, or he will. And, truthfully, if neither we nor Mithrandir did, the spiders would.”

Bilbo shuddered involuntarily. He remembered the spiders a little too well, and he had no interest in encountering them again. But the more time he spent alone under the boughs of the trees, the more likely an encounter would become. Of course he could use the ring, but it was not fool-proof. Besides, more than likely these elves would follow him and attempt to catch him unawares. He was still within their borders, after all, and they certainly knew the lay of the land better than he ever could.

 _We have no choice, do we?_ the Took sighed. _We can’t run from them, they’re faster than us. And they have sharper eyes and ears._

 _I’d rather not return to the camp if Thorin is still mad_ , the Baggins protested vehemently. _If we continue on our way and simply dodge out of sight and put the ring on, they might assume we left the path entirely._

 _Never thought I’d see the day when you’d advocate defying the laws of the land_ , the Took mused. _Well, all the same, they’d catch us quickly. We can’t run._

_We can’t go back either! We’re exiled, remember?_

_Thorin asked for us._

_Thorin has said a lot of things, and lately none of them have been good! I say we go on!_

The hobbit turned his head and stared down the path that led deeper into the gloom. Daylight was indeed waning, and he had precious little time to spare. After a moment’s hesitation, he looked up at the elves again.

“Tell me one thing first,” he said slowly. “Is Thorin angry still? Has he asked for me simply to mete out what he considers justice?”

“I would not know, little master,” the elf said, sounding almost sad to not be able to give a straight answer to the hobbit’s question. “Mithrandir told us that Thorin had asked for you, but he did not say why.”

One of the other elves, a dark-haired female, leant forward.

“Mithrandir would not have mentioned Thorin Oakenshield if he feared the dwarf would be any danger to you,” she said. “Of that we are certain. We’ve no wish to harm you, or to imprison you. You have friends waiting back in the camps, and they are very worried.”

Bilbo gave the elf a long doubtful look; they seemed sincere enough, but he had to admit that he’d been a little bit too trusting before his long journey.

 _We trusted that we could trick the trolls_ , the Baggins said bitterly. _We trusted that slimy little Gollum-wretch wouldn’t try to hurt us. We trusted the dwarves’ decision to leave the path in Mirkwood._

 _I get the point_ , the Took groaned. _But what reason do these elves have to lie to us? Besides, at least that dark-haired one seems nice enough. Reminds me of grandmother Laura, somehow._

The hobbit heaved a sigh. He couldn’t run away, and he had to grudgingly admit that he missed his friends. He missed Balin’s and Ori’s kind words, he missed Dwalin’s gruff but  unwavering support, he missed Bofur’s attempts to joke and Bifur’s unintelligible gentleness and Bombur’s cooking and steadfast calm. He missed Óin’s gruff but kind way of telling him to rest, he missed Glóin’s attempts at distracting him by speaking of family, he missed Dori’s nervous hovering and gentle words, and Nori’s simple way of telling him to rest and wait and see. He missed Fili and Kili and their jokes and laughter.

But most of all, he missed Thorin. He missed the dwarf he had slowly but surely befriended during the journey, the one who found him to be the queerest little creature. The dwarf who, despite saying that he would take no responsibility for Bilbo’s fate, never once abandoned him or left him in danger. The dwarf who had risked his life to save the hobbit more than once. He missed speaking with him, missed joking and laughing with him, missed his calm and steady trust.

The longing to see them all again hit him like a tidal wave. When he’d left the camp, he had already made up his mind to go home and had decided that there was simply no point to feel bad about it. He had stubbornly kept it all from his mind, denied that he ever had any thought of wishing that he could see them again.

 _They asked for us_ , the Took said. _They looked for us. They searched the camps, several times according to these elves._

 _So they did_ , the Baggins said slowly. _But can we trust that we are welcome?_

 _We can’t always trust, can we?_ the Took sighed. _What was it da said? Do you remember?_

 _‘If you could always trust a Baggins to act a certain way, why did I marry a Took?’_ the Baggins muttered. _That’s simply unfair of you…_

“Very well,” Bilbo groaned, and the dark-haired elf’s face lit up with a warm smile. “I’ll go with you.” He smiled weakly at them and shrugged. “It’s for the best, after all, isn’t it?”

 _I hate you_ , the Baggins stated.

 _I know you do,_ the Took laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

With the aid of the elves, Bilbo was brought on safe paths back towards the mountain. He still wondered every now and then if he should not attempt to give them the slip and attempt to get away; in fact, he’d laid awake one night trying to figure out how to get past the elf that guarded the camp. Then, of course, he realised that the others did not really sleep, but rather rested their eyes. He’d probably not get further than a step or two.

When the camps finally came into view, Bilbo found himself wanting to run away as fast as he could. As much as he missed his friends, he was as of yet uncertain about how welcome he would be.

 _Best case scenario here?_ the Took asked nervously. _Any ideas?_

 _I suppose we could just be chased away again_ , the Baggins stated glumly. _Or Thorin is still mad and will insist on having us beheaded._

 _Somehow, I doubt the others would allow that_ , the Took muttered. _Remember their reactions on the ramparts? Not a single one of them moved when ordered to throw us down._

 _Well, of course they didn’t_ , the Baggins groaned. _Because Thorin was and is strong enough to do so himself! Or did you forget the part where he held us over the edge and shook us like a wolf shaking a rabbit?_

“That’s just Thorin,” Bilbo told himself as they approached and passed the sentries. “The others were fine. They _are_ fine. They don’t want to hurt me.”

They hadn’t gone far into the camps when a dwarf suddenly hailed them from a distance; the voice and the star-fish hairstyle signalled that it was Nori. The thief grinned brightly as he approached and waved one hand at the elves.

“I’ll bring him along to get some food and rest,” he said. “You lot might as well go and let Gandalf know that his little charge is safe and sound.”

Despite the suspicion and outright worry in the eyes of the elves, they reluctantly obeyed and left, leaving the hobbit and the dwarf alone. Nori stood for a long time eyeing his friend shrewdly until Bilbo started to feel quite uncomfortable, not to mention a little cross.

“I know you’re going to say something,” he snapped finally. “So say it and have done!”

“Normally, I’d consider not trusting someone fully to be a good idea,” Nori stated calmly. “But it’s not really like you, is it? You went along on this journey trusting us to keep you safe, you’ve trusted all of us despite not knowing us. And now you suddenly up and leave because you feel a little bit uncertain of that safety.”

“What of it?”

“What I want to know is, why didn’t you leave long ago, then? If it was going to happen at all, it should have happened earlier. You’ve been in worse spots.”

“None of those spots included being potentially executed on the orders of a friend,” Bilbo sniped back. “Pardon me for not trusting our glorious leader’s sanity.”

He glared at the dwarf, who simply smiled at him – but there was a hint of flint in the thief’s eyes this time that took away some of the careless cheer of that smile.

“Do you trust _me_ , Bilbo?” Nori asked quietly. “Or Balin, or Dwalin? Or anyone else than Thorin? Have the rest of us done you any harm?”

“No, you have not,” Bilbo muttered, turning his gaze away. “But kin comes first to dwarves, or so you’ve told me.”

“So I have.” Nori placed one heavy hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “And to us, you are kin. I’m glad you’ve taken my advice not to trust anyone completely to heart, but by Durin’s beard, you really do take it a little too far. How would you have made it back home all alone, eh? The wild is still a dangerous place for a hobbit, even if it is one that is armed and carrying a magic ring.” He gave Bilbo’s shoulder a squeeze, and suddenly his smile faded. “Did your friendship with Thorin mean so little that you won’t trust him because of an illness?”

“Have you ever been so frightened that it takes over your every action?” Bilbo asked bitterly. “Because I was when Thorin started losing himself. I didn’t keep that stone because I _wanted_ to, I just didn’t know what to do. And have you any idea how _terrifying_ it was to be held over the wall like that, knowing I could be dead within seconds if he just loosened his grip a little?” He took a deep breath and gave the dwarf a pleading look. “I am _scared_ , Nori. I am scared, and I want to be as far away from here as possible. No, of course I don’t trust that the illness is gone. No, I don’t trust him while he’s under its sway. He has already tried to kill me once – who’s to say that he won’t try again?”

Nori sighed deeply and nodded.

“I understand,” he said. “No, don’t glare, I really do. I’ve been that frightened too. But I can promise you this. I have been to speak with Thorin myself, as have the others. We’re all in agreement – Thorin is himself again.” As the hobbit gave him a doubtful look, Nori shrugged. “I’m not asking you to believe me, I simply said that I promise. I don’t make promises lightly, as you well know. Besides, the stupid sod tried to get up and go to search for you when he heard you were missing. He’s worried sick about you.”

“What about his nephews? He must’ve worried more about them, surely?”

“Oh, he’s spoken with them already. Fili’s been up and about; it’s mostly his leg that’s actually injured. He seemed quite satisfied to have his uncle outright begging him for forgiveness. And Kili was satisfied enough by a simple apology.”

 _Well, that sounds all well and good_ , the Baggins said hesitantly. _But that’s not all we need to know._

 _Ugh, of course it isn’t_ , the Took groaned. _Out with it, then. Best ask now before it comes as a surprise, eh?_

“He asked you all to search for me,” Bilbo said quietly. “Why haven’t you brought me to him yet?”

Nori finally smiled again and shook his head.

“Shows what you know,” he stated. “Thorin might be used to have his way, little Burglar, but he’s not heartless or unable to read the mood. He remembers what he did and he refused to let us bring you straight to him without giving you time to breathe. Outright ordered all of us not to, even threatened to cut off a few beards if he had to – not that he could, in his state. He’s giving you time to think and to gather courage. And if you choose to leave, at least you won’t be doing so without an escort. You know, I think that’s one of incredibly few times that he and Gandalf have been in agreement about something.”

“He’s giving me time,” Bilbo repeated softly. “And he’s going to respect my wishes.” The poor hobbit sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fine. Fine, just… I need to think. And eat. And maybe see the others and make a few apologies.”

“Glóin first, then,” Nori grinned. “He’s still sore that you wouldn’t listen to him.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _We really should go and have a word with him_ , the Baggins stated. _We can’t avoid that forever._

 _You were the one saying we should sneak away_ , the Took shot back. _We’ve done enough, haven’t we?_

 _Oh, now you’re getting cold feet?_ the Baggins groaned. _Really? You wanted us to go back! You insisted!_

 _How are we supposed to open up that conversation?_ the Took snapped. _Tell me that! ‘Sorry we’ve taken forever to come and see you, but we’ve been somewhat busy obsessing over whether or not you were entirely sane’?_

 _The others keep telling us that Thorin is quite alright_ , the Baggins hissed. _As I said, we can’t avoid speaking to him forever._

 _Yes, and it’s been a few weeks now, at the very least_ , the Took growled. _You wanted to leave! You were the one saying that we shouldn’t go back at all, and now you’re telling me that we have to talk to him?_

 _Well, he_ knows _we’re still here! It wouldn’t be very polite of us to up and leave without letting him say anything, would it?_

_Nori already told us we don’t have to! In fact, so did everyone else!_

Bilbo tried not to groan and turned his face away for a moment. He’d been sitting by the campfire alongside Dori and Ori for a good long while, and whereas they had been speaking of the possible works that would be started in the Mountain soon, he had been unable to keep his mind on the conversation. Ever since he had spoken to the members of the Company and to Gandalf, his one worry was Thorin. The dwarf-king had not sent for him and had apparently decided that it wasn’t worth attempting to pressure the hobbit into coming to see him. It had been three weeks since Bilbo was brought back to the camps by the elves, and the hobbit felt that he would have to think of something to say very quickly.

“Spring comes late here, according to Thorin,” Dori said suddenly, startling Bilbo out of his reveries. “We shan’t be able to do much about the lands outside the gates before then. Our main focus now must remain on ensuring that everyone is fed and warm”

“Yes, but Balin said that Thranduil has already sent for supplies from Mirkwood,” Ori answered. “He is not about to let the people of Laketown starve.”

“Well, all the same, Dáin’s people are helping us as best they can to clear away the rubble at the gate and to see what has been damaged inside the Mountain,” Dori said with a shrug. “As promised, we should be able to house some of Bard’s people.”

“Some, but not all,” Ori stated glumly. “And the Men are already impatient.”

“Bard does what he can to rein them in,” Dori sighed. “And Thorin is not particularly keen on having to deal with irate Men coming armed towards his people, not while he’s lying on a sickbed.”

Bilbo frowned. This was the big issue that had been discussed over the past few weeks. Since Thorin woke up, a lot had happened – the gate had been mostly cleared, the Men of Laketown had moved into the ruins of Dale and found what shelter they could, and Bard and Thorin had spent many days discussing if it was possible to arrange for better shelter for them. It had been Thorin’s idea to move the people into the Mountain, so long as they could be kept from wandering into potentially damaged areas.

Somehow, Bilbo was reminded of the year when one of the western tunnels of the Great Smials had been damaged by excessive rainfall one autumn; it had been a fine mess, and a few hobbits had even been trapped when the roof caved in. Bilbo’s grandfather Gerontius had, despite his age, helped with the digging to get the trapped hobbits out and had done all he could to keep the rest of the Smials to cave in. Bilbo’s parents had sadly stated that this one autumn had probably taken a few years off of Gerontius’s unusually long life; the stress and worry had taken a heavy toll on the Took-family.

“Is Thorin alright?” the hobbit blurted out, squirming and flushing when the two dwarves turned their eyes on him. “I mean… It must be awfully stressful for him. He likes to take care of things himself, doesn’t he? So laying in a sickbed must grate on his nerves something fierce, and to only have Bard and the odd noble from the Iron Hills to argue with about arrangements can’t make things better…”

“You didn’t mention Dáin,” Ori pointed out with a small smile.

“I’ve met Dáin,” Bilbo sighed. “He’s not going to argue with Thorin about this.”

The brief meeting with Dáin had consisted of the burly dwarf bearing down on the poor hobbit only mere minutes after he had managed to convince Balin that he wouldn’t go and speak with Thorin just yet. Dáin had clapped his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders hard enough to make the poor hobbit nearly fall to the ground, had given him a long hard stare and told him that he was probably dangerously insane, extremely confident, or both. Then he had given a great booming laugh and said that Bilbo was the “fun kind of insane” to dare to pull the wool over Thorin’s eyes, and then started to question him on what sort of pigs they bred in the Shire. Overall, a very confusing conversation.

“Well, Thorin’s obviously not happy,” Dori stated with a shake of his head. “In fact, last I passed his tent he was screaming bloody murder at one of those nobles who arrived. Something about dragons destroying all that the noble owned and how he’d feel if the one who had, however unintentionally, set said dragons on him never reached out to help.”

Bilbo winced.

“And Dáin didn’t try to stop him?” he asked.

“Well, no.” Dori grinned and shrugged again. “I think he was encouraging Thorin to shout a bit more. That one noble has apparently always been a pain to deal with.”

“He needs someone else to talk to,” Ori said. “Well, someone who isn’t going to pester him about politics, and someone who isn’t Dwalin or Balin.”

 _‘Someone else’, is it?_ the Baggins snorted. _Very subtle, Ori…_

 _Well, that’s just not fair_ , the Took grumbled. _Really, we can’t just-_

 _We can’t just leave him to go insane again by having no one else to speak to?_ the Baggins asked slyly. _I absolutely agree._

_No, that isn’t what I-_

“I suppose I ought to go and have a word with him,” Bilbo sighed. “He’s going to drive himself insane at this rate.”

“Well, if you feel that you’re up to it,” Dori stated. “I’m certain he’d appreciate it, at least.”

 _I hate you_ , the Took stated firmly. _So very much._

 _Oh, trust me, I am well aware_ , the Baggins answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Translations-  
> Halthith - divine strength that is young/new/fresh
> 
> Yes, Glóin is essentially calling Bilbo something along the lines of "a gift from Mahal". It felt suitable.


	8. Fury and Surprise

Despite the decision that he would indeed go and speak with Thorin, it still took Bilbo a few days to gather the courage to do so. He tried to think of how he ought to explain his absence, not to mention his previous decision to leave, and couldn’t quite figure out how to say anything about it without making the dwarf feel guilty.

“It’s not his fault,” the hobbit told himself over and over again. “He wasn’t well, he wasn’t himself. I know that. He couldn’t help it.”

Finally he found himself standing outside Thorin’s tent, debating with himself about whether or not he ought to go in. Two dwarves from the Iron Hills stood guard outside and eyed him curiously when he paced back and forth. From within, the hobbit could hear several voices raised against each other in a heated debate; one was definitely Thorin’s deep rumbling voice, and he thought he could make out Balin’s as well. There were more voices that he thought were dwarven, as well as Bard’s grim tone sometimes rising above the others.

_Well, he’s busy_ , the Took stated with forced cheerfulness. _We should just go and see if we can find some food, then._

_Don’t be ridiculous_ , the Baggins snapped. _We’re not going anywhere!_

“Are you well, master Halfling?” one of the guards asked carefully.

“Hobbit,” Bilbo said primly, entirely out of habit, and then caught himself and gave the dwarf a smile. “I’m quite well, thank you. I just… Well, I don’t want to interrupt them. I was going to have a word with Tho- I mean, with the King.”

“They should be done soon,” the guard sighed. “They’ve been at it for a while now.”

“Most of the morning,” the other guard stated. “And they’ve not gotten far, from what I’ve heard.”

Poor Bilbo sighed deeply.

“Does it seem like they’re going to stop soon?” he asked.

“No way to tell, sadly,” the first guard groaned. “I wish they would, though. All the shouting is starting to get on my nerves.”

“And I do hope you realise that I can hear you.” Balin stuck his head out through the opening and raised an eyebrow at the guards, who immediately stood at attention. “We should be done by now, if you’d like to come in, Bilbo.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted as Balin moved out of the way and Bard exited the tent.

“We most certainly are done,” the Man sighed. “I’ve had enough of nobles for one day.” He paused and gave Bilbo a small smile. “Maybe you should participate next time, master Baggins. An outsider’s view of things might be appreciated.”

“I think I get enough of that at home,” Bilbo answered. “But we’ll see.”

Nodding in reply, Bard swept away.

_That sounded strangely ominous_ , the Baggins mumbled. _I’m not sure I’d ever want to be put in that position._

_You wouldn’t_ , the Took agreed cheerfully. _Probably because you’re the one handling all those positions. I’m not good at that._

_They’re dwarves, though_ , the Baggins continued thoughtfully. _You could probably be of help._

_Probably could_ , the Took answered. _Probably should. Ultimately don’t want to._

“Do come in, Bilbo,” Balin said kindly, stepping to the side again as the hobbit uncertainly entered. “You came at a rather good time, if I may say so.”

“Is Thorin getting impatient?” Bilbo asked, tilting his head and giving the dwarf a curious look. “I heard shouting.”

“That was not really Thorin,” Balin admitted. “There’s been an issue, you see. An area that had previously been declared undamaged has been more carefully examined, and as it turns out, the ceiling as well as the floor is unstable and could collapse. The Men are getting impatient regarding the living arrangements, and some of the Iron Hills nobles who arrived are a little less keen on allowing Men inside the Mountain at all.”

“That seems odd,” Bilbo muttered under his breath as he took in the scene before him. Thorin had apparently recovered enough to be able to sit up, and was glaring furiously at a dwarf noble who was arguing fiercely with one of the other dwarves in Khuzdul. “I would’ve thought they’d be keen on helping, now that there is a King under the Mountain again.”

“Thorin is not yet crowned, laddie,” Balin sighed. “It’s a sad business, really. Dáin has spent an equal amount of time giving orders in Thorin’s name and arguing with three specific nobles about the legitimacy of his cousin’s claim.”

“Three specific nobles?”

“Don’t get involved if you can help it, laddie, I wouldn’t recommend it. Those three nobles fled from Erebor to the Iron Hills when the dragon came rather than following Thrór into the wild lands; they’re not ‘true’ Iron Hills dwarves, as Dáin likes to put it. They are ‘concerned’, such lay their words, that the gold-sickness will claim the heir of Durin’s line once again, and they would prefer to see someone else on the throne. They’ve suggested Dáin, who has threatened to shave their beards if they make mention of it again – he has about as much of a wish to claim the throne as I do, which is to say none at all. And they’ve suggested both Fili and Kili, who both refuse – vehemently so – on the basis of their age and inexperience and argue their uncle’s case.”

“Ah. You’re saying this has turned into a family dispute, except it’s not the _family_ who is arguing – it’s simply people who have nothing to do with the incident claiming to know exactly what has happened and what to do.”

“There is no dispute,” Thorin’s voice sounded from the bed; Bilbo turned his gaze on the dark-haired dwarf who glared back at him. “Not if I can help it. Enough of that now, I’ve no patience left for that discussion.” He gave the nobles a sharp look. “Out with you, I need a word with master Baggins.”

Bilbo waited nervously, squirming somewhat under Thorin’s gaze, while a smiling Balin led the nobles out of the tent. Finally they were left alone, and the hobbit found himself wishing that he could sink through the ground somehow.

_We could slip on the ring_ , the Took suggested vaguely. _Disappear into thin air._

_We are most certainly not doing that_ , the Baggins snapped back. _That wouldn’t make any sense!_

_What are you snapping for?_ the Took asked. _You don’t need to get angry with me for suggesting the same things as you did!_

“I hardly thought you’d decide to show up,” Thorin stated. “You certainly disappeared quickly enough earlier.”

For a moment, Bilbo could not believe his ears. Then the familiar blazing fury that belonged to a slighted Baggins lit in him, and he drew himself up to his full height (sadly not very impressive) and raised his voice in his best imitation of what other Baggins-relatives would state was an incredibly infuriated Bungo.

“You hardly thought I’d show up?” he snapped. “You are sitting here, wrapped comfortably in furs and looking surprisingly healthy for someone who almost died, and you’re _bitter_ about me disappearing. You are actually sitting here acting as though I had no right to do anything of the sort!” He took a deep breath, a small corner of his mind hoping in vain that it would calm him, and then raised his voice to a shout. “You tried to kill me, Thorin! You held me over that wall and threatened to throw me down to my death! You wanted me to die!”

“Bilbo, I’m-“ Thorin started, sounding and looking pained and regretful, but he was immediately interrupted by the hobbit.

“No, you don’t get to tell me that you’re sorry,” Bilbo shouted. “You may have granted me the small damned mercy of not _forcing_ me to come and speak with you, but you certainly seem to believe that I _had_ to!”

_What in the world are you saying?!_ the Took cried in surprise. _He never said that! Calm yourself, this isn’t-_

The Baggins, however, had apparently taken full hold and decided that it was an excellent time to let out every little grievance against the bedridden, and thus non-threatening, dwarf.

“You dragged me across the world, you treated me like a child and a coward,” Bilbo pressed on, starting to pace back and forth in the tent. “You acted as though I was somehow worth less than anyone else, though I overall behaved better than your kin in many cases! You decided that everything relied on _me_ succeeding, that _I_ was the one who had to find a way! And then you acted as though I should be _thankful_ for that! I trusted you, because you had saved my life more than once! I _trusted_ you, and thought that you trusted me!”

“I did trust you,” Thorin interrupted hastily. “I do! Bilbo, I swear, I didn’t mean to-“

“You _did_ mean to,” Bilbo cried angrily. “You _tried to kill me_ , Thorin! Do not claim that there was no _reason_ behind it! Yes, of course I shouldn’t have taken the stone! But what else was I supposed to do?! I couldn’t give it to you, I couldn’t do _anything_ , because I was afraid that you would kill me! And I tried to explain that to you, and was forced to face that fear!” He stopped and turned to glare at the dwarf. “You went mad and broke every promise you made to me and to your kin, after claiming over and over again that _you were not like your grandfather_!”

_Too far_ , the Took shouted. _Too far! Why did you say that, you stupid_ -

_Oh_ , the Baggins said weakly, suddenly startled out of the bout of fury that had fuelled the tirade. _Oh, I…_

Bilbo had fallen silent. Thorin wasn’t looking at him anymore; his eyes were fixed on his hands, clenched on his lap, and there was a pained look on his face as though Bilbo had just stabbed him. The hobbit shuddered – that look wasn’t right on the dwarf-king’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a moment. “I’m sorry, Thorin, I didn’t… I don’t know why I said that.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Thorin answered. “I made a grievous mistake in believing myself to be above such flaws. I thought I could overcome what one of the strongest dwarves I’ve ever known couldn’t.” He smiled, though it was a bitter and humourless smile. “I thought myself better than my elders, purer somehow. And for what? For the sole reason that I had prevailed after their deaths? Because I had reclaimed Erebor, without being the one to conquer Smaug? No, Bilbo, you do know why you said that. And you are right.”

_See, this is why I thought we shouldn’t talk to him_ , the Took groaned. _Because you always do the talking in situations like this, and you were already angry!_

_I didn’t mean to say that_ , the Baggins whimpered. _I swear, I didn’t mean to!_

_Well, you did_ , the Took said sharply. _You said it, and now look at him!_

Bilbo stared down at his feet. He thought of their long journey, from the faraway Shire where he had his sheltered little home, and all the way to Erebor, the Mountain where Thorin had been born. His home. The only place in the world he was truly willing to call home. The hobbit remembered his mother, Belladonna, and how she had told him that no matter how far away she had ever travelled in her life, the Shire was and would always remain home.

“Sometimes I found places where I thought I could live,” she had said. “Beautiful faraway places where the sun always seemed to shine and no evil touched the land. But I could not shake the feeling of not being at home. I was comfortable, I lacked nothing, but it was not my home. It wasn’t the green hills and bountiful fields where I grew up.”

Was that not what Thorin had felt? He had travelled with his people, his family, across a large part of Middle-Earth, and he had settled with them in the Blue Mountains. He had done everything, sacrificed his memories and practically his private life, to keep his people safe and fed. And now he had done the one thing that was as much for himself as for his people – he had reclaimed Erebor.

“But I _am_ wrong, and I spoke in anger,” Bilbo said slowly. “You’re not like your grandfather. And you never were.” He took a deep breath and looked up, forcing a faint smile at the confused look on the dwarf’s face. “You aren’t like him. Look at you, Thorin. You stand victorious in a battle that your grandfather did not wish to fight. When did he lead a group of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit to reclaim Erebor from a dragon? Did he ever stand united with Men and Elves to defeat a common foe?”

“That isn’t the point, though, is it?” Thorin sighed bitterly. “Bilbo, I fell to the gold sickness just as he did. I could never claim to be any different.”

“You are not the one who gathered all that gold and brought the dragon here,” Bilbo insisted. “It was Thror’s decision, and no one else’s. For goodness’ sake, don’t you think I could feel it too? Why on earth do you think I kept the stone? I was just as affected as you were, and I couldn’t stop myself.” He stood a little straighter and crossed his arms. “Would you say that I am just as bad as your grandfather?”

“No!” Thorin’s eyes snapped up to meet Bilbo’s, and the dwarf frantically shook his head. “No, why would you believe that? You could never be-“

“Then why, in the name of all good in this world, would you believe that of yourself?” Despite the moment of hesitation it took him, Bilbo slowly approached the dwarf. He wondered briefly if he shouldn’t try to run away instead, but decided against it. He should be able to trust Thorin now – the change in the dwarf’s behaviour and the self-loathing in his voice signalled the definite end of the sickness. “Thorin, if I am not like your grandfather despite having succumbed, however briefly, to the same sickness, then why can you believe that of yourself?”

“Look at what I’ve done to you,” Thorin objected desperately. “I tried to kill you!”

“Yes, and that frightened me out of my wits,” Bilbo agreed. “But even so, you are not your grandfather. You’ve never said that he tried to do such a thing to anyone.”

“Everything I said to you, everything I said to my nephews,” Thorin groaned. “Every spiteful word, every suspicious look…”

“None of that makes you like your grandfather,” the hobbit answered; he was starting to feel a little more confident now when he stood by the dwarf’s bedside. “You are stronger than he ever was. Look at you, Thorin. You broke free.”

“You should hate me,” the dwarf insisted. “You said you were frightened of me, and you are right to be.”

“And it’s possible that I’ll always be afraid of you when you’re angry,” Bilbo stated. “I’m a little frightened of you right now, even if I can tell that you’re better. But hate you? Thorin, being angry with you or frightened of you doesn’t mean that I hate you.”

_Well, not much_ , the Baggins grumbled, seemingly back to normal. _But a little bit._

_Shut it_ , the Took answered firmly. _You are not permitted to speak until you cool down._

_Not permitted to-_

_I said shut it!_

“You were angry,” Thorin said, and the hobbit could not recall that he had ever sounded so very small before.

“Yes, I was,” Bilbo agreed. “And in a sense, I suppose I still am. All the same, I shouldn’t have said those things.” He took a deep breath to steady himself, then slowly reached out and placed one hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “Talk to me,” he said quietly. “Please. Could you tell me what you remember? And what happened when you… Well, when you woke up?”

Thorin stared at him, and for a moment Bilbo was reminded of the evening when Balin had told him the story of how the now bedridden dwarf had taken charge and fought at the battle of Azanulbizar. There had been a look in Thorin’s eyes after that story that put the hobbit in mind of his mother after his father’s death; someone who only wished to go back to better days, before everything crumbled to dust around them. That look was back in Thorin’s eyes now, and it made Bilbo’s heart ache to know that he had put it there simply by asking what he could remember.

“I can’t recall much,” Thorin said slowly. “I remember feeling as though I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. And whenever I opened my eyes, everything I saw was in a golden haze, or lit by fires.” He frowned and looked away again, staring down at his hands. “I thought I slept. The few flashes I can remember, they hardly seem real.”

_In hindsight, it does all seem like a long nightmare, doesn’t it?_ the Took commented. _It must’ve been horrible for him._

_Of course it must’ve been_ , the Baggins agreed. _It was horrible for us, but for him? Goodness, imagine what it must be like to suddenly snap out of it and wonder what on earth has happened._

_Awfully quick to defend him now, aren’t you? Besides, I said you weren’t permitted to speak._

_Shush._

“Is there anything in particular that you can remember?” Bilbo asked carefully. “Any one moment that stands out?”

“A few,” Thorin admitted. “But it was all connected, somehow.”

“Connected how?”

“Because of you.” Thorin gave the hobbit a small helpless smile and shrugged. “I kept looking for you, wondering where you were… I kept wondering where you had gone, if you’d come back at all, or if I’d be left alone like that. I remember panicking a few times, thinking that you’d gotten hurt, and sending Fili to search for you…”

“Yes, that happened a few times,” Bilbo admitted. “I still don’t quite see why you were so fixated on keeping me close.”

For a brief moment, Thorin stared at the hobbit as though seeing him for the first time in his life. Then his cheeks flushed, and he turned away again.

“Did I… Forgive me, my memory is perhaps not what it ought,” Thorin said slowly. “But did I by any chance call you something? In my own tongue?”

“I was about to get to that,” the hobbit answered, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, you did. And I’m not certain what it meant.”

_We are actually about to ask this_ , the Baggins sighed. _We are really going to ask what he said to us when he was deep in the throes of madness._

_If you see a better opportunity to bring it up, do tell_ , the Took muttered. _I say it would be in our best interest to find out what it actually meant. Besides, he was the one to ask us._

“Do you remember exactly what I said?” Thorin asked carefully.

Bilbo frowned as he thought back to the conversation he’d had with the dwarf about the search for the Arkenstone. It had been spinning in his head for some time after, but now it had been a while since he’d last thought of it in detail.

“I’m not certain,” he admitted. “Maybe… Amalim? Amel? Am-something, at least…”

Thorin groaned loudly; the hobbit couldn’t quite tell if it was out of embarrassment, or if it was because of the dwarf’s wounds making themselves known again as he leant forward to lean his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that,” the hobbit said nervously. “I’m sure Óin must’ve said something about that…”

“Amrâlimê,” came the dwarf’s muffled voice from behind his hands. “I called you amrâlimê.”

“Yes, that might’ve been it,” Bilbo said quickly as he reached out to place a hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “Come now, Thorin, you probably shouldn’t do that, your wounds-“

“I called you amrâlimê,” Thorin repeated weakly. “Mahal save me, I called you _amrâlimê_ …”

_Amrahlimeh_ , the Baggins repeated slowly. _No, I said that wrong, didn’t I? That language is such a mouthful…_

_Stop repeating it and find out what it means_ , the Took snapped.

“Thorin, stop that,” Bilbo said sharply, giving the dwarf’s shoulder a shake. “Lean back so you don’t aggravate your wounds.” He had to repeat this a few times before Thorin even seemed to hear him and did as he asked. “There, that’s better. Now. Perhaps you might tell me why this is as mortifying to you as it would be for a hobbit-lad to give the wrong sorts of flowers to his intended?”

“Intended,” Thorin scoffed, still with a surprisingly weak voice. “That’s about right…” At Bilbo’s questioning look, the dwarf groaned and looked away. “In all fairness, I shouldn’t tell you. We do not teach outsiders our tongue.”

“Well, then I might tell you that Ori has already broken that rule,” Bilbo said impatiently, “by telling me what nadad meant. And bahe, for that matter.”

“Bâha,” Thorin corrected automatically, looking back at the hobbit and blinking at the smirk on the small creature’s face. He sighed deeply and shook his head. “That was a trick. I see that now.”

“Very much so,” Bilbo agreed brightly. “Yes, I do know how it’s pronounced. Ori spent a good long while trying to make sure I got it right. All the same, I would wish to know what the word you said means. Amrahlimeh?”

“Am-râl-im-ê,” Thorin said slowly, his cheeks gaining some colour as he spoke. “And perhaps you won’t be so keen on repeating the word back to me once you know what it means.”

“Well, what does it mean, then?” Bilbo asked. “I shan’t ask again. And don’t try to be clever by staying quiet just because I said I won’t ask again.”

Thorin took a deep breath and held it for a good long while before finally exhaling in a deep sigh.

_He won’t say it_ , the Took muttered. _Look at him, he would rather talk about anything else than this._

_Of course he’ll say it_ , the Baggins answered. _He’ll have to._

_Oh yes, the magical force of ‘because I said so’_ , the Took stated derisively. _Truly a grand plan, he’ll have no way to get out of it._

_For goodness’ sake, you were the one who wanted to know what it meant_ , the Baggins grumbled. _You needn’t behave like that._

“It means ‘my love’,” Thorin stated.

And Bilbo’s mind ground to an abrupt halt.

“I’m sorry?”

“Amrâlimê.” Thorin looked down at his hands again as he spoke. “It means ‘my love’.”

_What_ , said the Took blankly.

_Oh_ , said the Baggins.

And the full meaning of Thorin’s statement came crashing down, and the hobbit barely had time to squeak out the Baggins-side’s single statement before passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Translations-  
> Amrâlimê - My love  
> Nadad - brother  
> Bâha - friend


	9. With A Little Help

It would perhaps be nice to imagine that the hobbit accepted Thorin’s words immediately. Bilbo was, and had always been, a kind and accepting hobbit. But it would, sadly, not be the reality of things.

After he had fainted, Bilbo had been carried back to his own bedroll by Balin, and there he had woken up. The old white-bearded dwarf still sat beside him, waiting patiently to see how he was feeling, and was luckily kind enough to wait until the hobbit had quite regained his wits and memory before he explained that he had been outside the tent the entire time.

“I can’t say that I know of anyone who would have reacted differently, laddie,” Balin had told him, effectively interrupting his sputtering over having been overheard. “Though I can say immediately that Thorin most likely regrets telling you at all.”

And it was with Balin’s words spinning in his head that Bilbo continued to go about his business in the camps, helping his friends as best he could, while also trying to figure out how he’d ever be able to speak with Thorin again.

“Of course Thorin cares for you,” said Bombur when Bilbo told him of his woes on one sunny afternoon. “It’s been easy to see. But I would’ve thought he’d keep it quiet unless you took the first step. Doesn’t strike me as the type of fellow who’d want to tell someone that he feels so deeply for them, only to be rejected.”

“Not much better to tell someone and have to watch them faint,” Bilbo muttered. “He really wouldn’t have told me if not for the fact that he already sort of had.”

“He said a lot of things while he was gold-mad,” Bombur agreed. “Not all of them good. But I suppose that he thought you’d understand it then. Or he knew you wouldn’t, which would mean he wouldn’t have outright told you. Then again, he didn’t outright say that he loves you, just that he’d called you ‘my love’.”

“It’s as good as telling me he loves me, don’t you think?” Bilbo asked, frowning somewhat. “I mean, by calling me ‘my love’, there is the implication…”

“Of course, of course,” Bombur chuckled, giving the hobbit a kind smile. “But well… I am not Thorin, and I can’t tell you what he thought. All I can tell you is what I see and what I think.” His smile grew a little wider, and he reached out and poked at his friend’s chest. “And what I see is you walking around, fretting over what was said, turning it over in your head and asking everyone except for the person who spoke those words to you. And I see Thorin getting more and more restless the longer he’s kept from getting up and going to look for you himself.”

Bilbo rubbed his chest where Bombur had poked him and huffed.

“Well, of course I’d go and see him,” he grumbled. “But I don’t know what I’d say! ‘Thank you for saying you love me, it really is a great honour, but I do not feel the same’?”

“If you don’t feel the same, then of course that’s what you say,” Bombur answered with a shrug. Then he gave Bilbo a long searching look, reached out and placed one hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. “You can’t always love someone back, Bilbo, that’s not how it works.”

Bilbo gave him a small smile.

“You sound like my da,” he sighed. “He’d have said the same thing.” He thought for a moment, and then said: “Your advice comforts me, all the same. Better to give him an answer and have that answer be no, rather than sneak around and have him thinking that he’s said something wrong.”

“I’m certain he’ll at least appreciate having an answer,” said Bomfur confidently. “And if he takes it badly, well, you’ve twelve friends willing to convince him to leave you be if something goes wrong.”

 

* * *

 

 

Scarcely two days had passed since Bilbo had spoken with Bombur before the hobbit once again found himself outside of Thorin’s tent. He felt, for the first time in a good long while, oddly confident about speaking with the dwarf; he knew what he needed to say, and he knew how he wanted to say it.

But he didn’t enter immediately. The guards who had been stationed outside the tent before were gone, and from within came the rumbling voice of the lord of the Iron Hills. The hobbit quickly looked around, hoping that he seemed at least somewhat inconspicuous, and moved as close as he dared to listen.

“- should be ready any day now,” Dáin was saying. “Besides, any day now and you should be allowed to get up, no?”

“Óin says I seem to be healing well,” Thorin answered. “But we’ll see. He changes his mind quick enough if he notices the slightest thing out of place.”

“And speaking of changing his mind,” Dáin said shrewdly. “A little bird told me you’d spoken to your wee companion.”

_Oh, that’s brilliant, isn’t it_ , the Took sighed. _Everyone knows._

_We can’t say that it’s everyone_ , the Baggins protested. _Let’s just see what else he says._

Inside the tent, Thorin groaned.

“Of course,” he grumbled. “’A little bird’. What else did Balin decide that he ought to let you know?”

“Oh, it wasn’t Balin.”

“It wasn’t?”

“You forget that it’s been two of mine who have been stationed outside of your tent.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and mouthed “of course” to himself. The deep sigh that Thorin apparently heaved made him suspect that the dwarf felt the same about that statement.

“How much have they been telling you?” asked Thorin. He did not sound happy.

“That is all they’ve said,” Dáin answered calmly. “They told me nothing of the contents of the conversation - only that you argued, and loudly so.”

“That’s more than they should have told you.”

“Then there’s what I’ve pieced together myself, of course,” Dáin continued, as though he hadn’t heard what Thorin interjected. “Whatever was said during this argument led to you becoming a miserable sod.” There was a short booming laugh, and Bilbo could only assume that Thorin had glared at his cousin. “You can give me that look all you want, lad; but you are still more miserable than you’ve ever been before.”

“I am twenty-one years older than you,” Thorin snapped. “Do not call me ‘lad’.”

“And there you go, avoiding the subject.” Dáin’s cheerful tone was gone now, and he sounded sadder than Bilbo had so far ever heard him. It sounded wrong, somehow, to have the normally so boisterous dwarf sound sad at all. “You’ll nit-pick on everything else I say and ignore the actual question. What happened, Thorin? You’ve been miserable before, but never like this. Balin tells me you’ve refused to speak with anyone lately, even him and Dwalin. And your wee friend has made himself scarce as of late. What was said to make you behave like a bear with a sore paw?”

Bilbo hardly dared to breathe, in case the sound of his own breath would drown out the dwarf-king’s reply. He knew he should walk away; eavesdropping was never a kind thing to do to anyone, and this was a very private conversation.

_I suppose Dáin must’ve sent the guards away to gain some privacy_ , the Baggins speculated. _Maybe he wanted to ensure that Thorin wouldn’t worry about others overhearing._

_Oh, you don’t say_ , the Took grumbled. _Would you hush up? I’m trying to listen!_

_The point I’m trying to make_ , the Baggins sniped back, _is that we should not be listening at all!_

_And the point_ I’m _trying to make_ , the Took growled, _is that I’m trying to hear what’s going on!_

“I said some things I should not have,” Thorin said after a good long while of silence. “Some things that I would have kept quiet, had I been given a choice. But Bilbo took that choice away and demanded that I tell him, and it would seem that the words spoken may have scared him off.”

“And there we are again.” Dáin sighed deeply. “You tell me something and hint to what you mean, but you never tell me anything straight out. Have it out for once, Thorin, and you’ll see that I won’t judge you.”

The hobbit shook himself. He knew he shouldn’t stay and listen – it was in no way fair to Thorin. But it was still with some reluctance that he moved away from the tent and snuck away, hoping that neither of the tent’s occupants had heard him.

 

* * *

 

 

The very same evening, Bilbo sat alone by one of the campfires; nearly everyone who did not have guard-duty was asleep already, and the hobbit was left alone to stare into the fire. His friends were asleep as well, aside from Dwalin - he had decided to see how many of the Iron Hills soldiers he could sneak up on while they stood guard.

“Of course I trust them,” the burly dwarf had grunted when the hobbit cautiously asked if that was such a good idea. “But there’s a good deal of younglings who probably saw their first battle in this valley. They’ve proven themselves in battle, but I’d like to see what they make of sentry-duty.”

Bilbo stared sullenly at the flames. He had decided to wait with speaking to Thorin until perhaps the next day, but the wait was already grating on his nerves. He could well have waited only until Dáin had left, but he couldn’t quite figure out what he should’ve said by then.

“’Pardon, Thorin, but I just heard you talking to Dáin, and, well, funny coincidence, I wanted to tell you just what I feel, and I just so happen to feel exactly the way you expect, I am not interested’,” he muttered to himself before snorting and shaking his head. “Oh yes, that would be an incredibly kind way to put things.”

“Kind indeed,” said a rumbling voice behind him, making him squawk and jump in fright. But as he turned his head, he only saw Dáin standing there, grinning at him. “My apologies, little master. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to say something, perhaps protest the idea of having been startled at all, but found that he didn’t know what to say or what to do and so closed his mouth again. Dáin hardly seemed to notice; the dwarf simply took a seat beside the hobbit and sighed deeply.

“You’re difficult to get a hold of,” he said. “No one I asked seemed to know where you were, until I ran into Dwalin and asked him. Told me you were sitting here and being miserable and refusing to get some sleep.”

“Not refusing,” Bilbo mumbled. “I’m just not tired.”

_Of course Dwalin told him_ , the Baggins grumbled. _No manners at all…_

_We didn’t exactly tell him that we wanted to be alone_ , the Took shot back.

“Aye, that tends to happen when one’s mind is whirling.” Dáin gave the hobbit a shrewd look and raised an eyebrow. “Good to know that you heard me speaking with Thorin. That should mean we’re more or less on the same page.”

Said hobbit swore quietly under his breath, berating himself for not thinking (or listening for footsteps) before voicing his thoughts aloud. He had been muttering to himself for a good long while before Dáin had alerted him to his presence – there was no telling just how much he’d overheard.

“That makes us about even, then,” Bilbo said aloud. “I overheard you and Thorin, you overheard me speaking with myself.”

“It’s also good to know that you at the very least intend to speak with him,” Dáin continued, as though he hadn’t heard Bilbo’s words. “I swear, he’s been replaying everything in his mind since it happened and it’s driving him batty.” He smiled again, though it did not quite reach his sharp eyes. The look reminded Bilbo vaguely of his grandfather Mungo, who had been more than able to make even the Old Took sweat nervously when subjected to that look. “Do words frighten you so easily?”

“Does it amuse you to dance around the subject?” Bilbo retorted, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms in an attempt to make himself look more confident than he felt. “I took you for someone more straightforward than this.”

“Just as sharp as my cousins tell me,” Dáin stated, more to himself than anything else, and sighed. “Aye, I am perhaps more straightforward than this, but I was also told that you come from a people who value subtlety; a people who would not appreciate being outright interrogated regarding what is their private concerns.”

“And if it is, indeed, my private concern, then why are you asking?”

“Thorin is not the type to be distressed. Yet he is, and that is a concern of mine which ties together with yours.”

Bilbo fell silent and bit his lip.

_Now that is a low blow_ , the Took sighed. _He must know we still care for Thorin._

_Do you think that we perhaps hurt Thorin when we didn’t come back to speak with him?_ the Baggins asked nervously. _Or well… Of course I understand that we did, but…_

_I think that Dáin here is attempting to gauge our understanding of the situation_ , the Took answered. _As well as gauge our actual feelings._

_Then he has read plenty already_ , the Baggins groaned. _We’ll need to see Thorin, and soon._

“I did not intend to cause him distress,” Bilbo said, choosing his words carefully when he finally spoke again. “Though I can see that I have.” He ran his fingers through his hair and turned to stare into the flames of the fire again. “I… I erred when I didn’t go back to give him an answer immediately. His words did not frighten me – as a matter of fact, I was more angry than afraid. Perhaps I suspected, when he was still gold-mad. But having it explained to me…” He took a deep breath, held it for a moment and then exhaled forcefully. “I do not feel the same. I thought I did, once. But when I think back it seems that it was not love that I felt, but rather admiration. He fascinated me. He was the very ideal of a hero, straight out of the stories my mother used to tell me when I was a child. There was such pain in his past, more than I could ever imagine, and still he soldiered on and would not break, would not bend for anything. To have someone like him trust me was like a dream come true.”

When he paused, the silence hung heavy over them. Bilbo had never intended to speak of this, not to anyone. Gandalf certainly did not need to know, and neither did the rest of the Company. Thorin… He didn’t feel as though he could ever have told Thorin of this. But here he sat, with his heart on his sleeve and hoping that he could make his line of thought understood, that he would not be judged too harshly for what he felt.

“None of the stories mother told me had anything in them about the hero abusing the admiration others held for them,” the hobbit continued quietly. “None of those stories told of a hero failing to uphold that righteous image. They never said anything about what one would do if someone you admired became the complete opposite of whom you knew them to be. There was never a word about what to do if someone you trust becomes someone you fear.” He finally looked up at Dáin, and found the dwarf watching him intently; he could only smile weakly and shrug. “I told him that I am still a little afraid of him, that I might always be. I told him that I know very well that he was not himself. But how could I tell him any of this? He would only punish himself more for having succumbed in the first place. It was never his fault – but I cannot see him as I used to. I do not feel the same as he does for me, and I am uncertain of whether I could grow to do so or not. And I am angry because he, however out of his mind he was at the time, used my admiration for him against me. And I am afraid of telling him all of this, because he will only see that he had an opportunity that he failed to take hold of; all he will do is beat himself up over something that he couldn’t see.”

Dáin never looked away while the hobbit spoke. He simply sat there, listening and watching with a carefully blank expression. But when Bilbo stopped speaking, the dwarf-lord looked away; he looked almost eerily calm.

“I was told that you came from a sheltered corner of the world,” he said at length. “And Nori explained that the lesson of not always trusting people was a lesson hard learned for you.” As Bilbo bristled and wagged his mouth in protest at that statement, Dáin held up a hand and shook his head. “Allow me to finish, master Baggins. I am not attempting to call you naïve.”

“Then what on earth _are_ you saying?” Bilbo blurted out.

“I am saying that you do not seem to think it fair of you to not trust Thorin,” Dáin answered steadily. “You look at all that has happened, and you state that you are afraid. You state that it was never his fault and that you do not blame him, for all that you fear him and want to be angry. But you hesitate to tell him that you do not love him as he loves you, because you fear that he will sink all the deeper and think of himself as a failure.” He looked up once more, and gave the hobbit a small kind and genuine smile. “You are not an evil being for not feeling capable of loving him, and he will never think that of you. Whether he loves you or not, you are still his friend – nothing in this world or the next will cause him to forsake you or wish you any harm again. Now he knows the signs, and so do you. The situation might be improved on, but it will require honesty from both of you.” He reached out, clamping one heavy hand down on the hobbit’s shoulder, and looked straight into Bilbo’s eyes. “I will not ask you to trust in my words alone – let Nori’s lesson remain with you, and take care to know people before you trust their every word. But I ask that you will be honest with Thorin about your thoughts and feelings, and he will do the same for you.”

For a good long while, Bilbo only stared at the dwarf. In a small corner of his mind, he was struggling to make sense of what Dáin had just told him; but it seemed that both the Baggins- and the Took-side of him had made a decision.

“I will try,” he said slowly. “I can’t say that all you’ve told me makes sense… But I’ll try to talk to Thorin.”

“Good,” Dáin said firmly. “And if you need any help at all, lad, just come and find me, alright? Mahal knows that Thorin can be horrible to deal with when he’s moody.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update again! :D I've got a long week coming up with work Monday-Saturday, and I wanted to at least make sure I have given you guys something rather than disappear out of the blue. I know this one's short, and admittedly the next one won't be super-long either. But it's at the very least something.


	10. Answer

Bilbo had spent two days attempting to gather his courage once more and finally managed to convince himself to approach Thorin’s tent on the morning of the third day. His friends, somehow aware of the situation (the hobbit strongly suspected Dáin to be the cause of this), had managed to get him up at the crack of dawn and urged him to eat a little bit, after which they simply gave him a firm push in the direction of the tent and told him to “have fun”, whatever they had meant by that.

“Thorin will be getting up soon,” Óin had told him before he left. “I’d say he has healed well enough, and too much bedrest doesn’t do a body as much good as one would believe. Not to mention he’s been about as pleasant as orcs in the company of elves. Best talk to him while you can still outrun him.”

_I wonder if we actually could outrun Thorin_ , the Took mused. _Maybe? There’s no telling if he’s still too sore to actually give chase._

_Whether we can outrun him or not doesn’t really matter_ , the Baggins sighed. _We are only going to tell him that we do not feel the same. That is all. If he gets angry, it is hardly our fault._

Bilbo bit his lip nervously at the thought of the dwarf-king growing angry over the given answer and tried desperately to think of a reason to put it off for just a little bit longer. He pulled a blank.

“Well, that isn’t particularly soothing,” he muttered to himself. He straightened up somewhat as he approached the guards, feeling a little more relaxed when one of them smiled at him; he could recognise the dwarf as one of the two who had been on duty the first time he came to the tent.

“Master Baggins,” the guard said, giving him a nod as a greeting. “Lord Dáin said to expect you.”

“Did he now?” Bilbo sighed deeply and shook his head. “He really does like to nose about, doesn’t he?” He managed a small smile in return and nodded to the opening. “Is Thorin alone?”

“He is today,” the guard confirmed. “Though he certainly didn’t sound too pleased when master Óin was here to check on him earlier. You may want to tread carefully.”

“You’re saying he’s back to normal, then,” the hobbit quipped, his smile widening as the guard struggled to disguise laughter as a coughing fit. “Well, thank you for the warning. And… if you don’t mind, and if you think it might be safe, I’d prefer if no one listened in on us, if you take my meaning…”

The guards exchanged quick glances, and then nodded.

“Naturally, master Baggins,” the first guard said firmly. “Don’t mind us, we shall simply take a short break and give you some space. But we’ll need to be back very soon.”

So Bilbo was allowed to pass, and once he was inside he found himself grinning at the sight of Thorin staring at him like a child caught with their hand in the cookie-jar, sitting on the edge of the bed and seeming about to get up.

“Bilbo,” he greeted cautiously. “It is good to see you.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo answered, mimicking his tone. “Has Óin given you permission to get up yet?”

“Well… Yes?”

“You are an awful liar. Back under the blanket you get, and I might deign to not let Óin know that you refuse to listen to him.”

Looking defeated and still somewhat nervous, Thorin slowly moved until he sat with his legs up on the cot and the blanket over his legs. He didn’t take his eyes off the hobbit, and Bilbo was finally reminded of his errand once he stood by the dwarf’s side.

“Are you feeling well?” he asked quietly, watching warily for any sign of Thorin wishing to be alone; at this point, he really would accept any excuse to leave. “Óin said your wounds should have healed enough, so you’ll be up in a day or two.”

_He certainly looks horrified enough_ , the Took muttered. _Look at him, he really doesn’t want to hear this._

_That doesn’t matter, because he needs to hear it_ , the Baggins said sharply. _We need to get this over with._

“A bit frustrated,” Thorin admitted. “I’d rather hobble about with the aid of a cane than stay here and do nothing.”

“Yes, I thought so,” Bilbo murmured.

They were silent for a long while; Thorin still would not look away, and Bilbo tried to look anywhere but at the dwarf. How on earth was he supposed to start? Though well-practiced with saying no to offers of marriage, those had been people whom he had not wanted to know at all, not even as friends. Thorin was, to say the least, a completely different matter.

_You come up with something_ , the Baggins suggested. _I’ve no clue of what to say._

_Me? Do we want to lose his friendship entirely?_ the Took blurted out. _Anyway, you always handle these things!_

_I do not! You handled that Proudfoot-lass!_ the Baggins protested.

_Only because she refused to take the hint and leave us alone! I never handle these things!_ the Took cried. _It’s altogether a bad idea! I’m too blunt!_

_That’s exactly why I’m saying you should do it_ , the Baggins groaned. _I don’t know what to say! I’m not certain that I can do this!_

“If you do not wish for anything else than friendship from me, Bilbo, then I beg of you to tell me so now.” Thorin’s words cut through Bilbo’s thoughts and made the hobbit blink and finally meet the dwarf’s eyes. “I cannot force you to feel anything more, and I will not attempt to do so. To have your friendship will be enough.”

Again, Bilbo was silent. He thought of what he had said to and been told by Bombur and Dáin, and he thought of all that had happened during his journey to Erebor. Finally, he sighed.

“I am sorry, Thorin,” he said quietly. “I just… I can’t feel the same. I don’t love you.”

Nothing in the dwarf’s expression changed. He simply nodded and said, with a surprisingly small voice:

“Can you forgive me? For all that I’ve done to you?”

“You are my friend, Thorin,” Bilbo answered. “I’ve already forgiven you, though it will take time for me to trust you entirely again.” Then he smiled, however faintly, and reached out to take Thorin’s hand. “Though I hope you might forgive me for not being here for you. For running away as I did. And… Well, for forcing you to tell me what you felt…”

“I do not blame you for any of that,” Thorin said steadily. He was smiling again, seeming a little more relaxed now that it was said and done and Bilbo showed no signs of wanting to run away. “I can’t say I deserved better.”

He immediately winced as Bilbo swatted at the back of his head.

“None of that now,” the hobbit chided. “No more blaming yourself.”

“What, are you going to hit me every time I try?”

“No. Why? Do you think it’d work?”

“If it would, I doubt I’d tell you.”

 

* * *

 

 

A coronation was a grand occasion to attend, even to a hobbit; the fact that hobbits did not have kings and queens did not stop them from understanding the importance of the act. And Bilbo felt immensely proud when he watched Thorin (finally standing on his own two feet without nearly falling over) rise with the crown on his head.

But the poor hobbit had no wish to see another dwarven feast (and a feast it was, though food was in short supply), and once it came to that, he simply slipped off to a quiet corner, slipped on his ring and hurried away before his friends would think to look for him. He could see them when he passed through the hall; Bofur and Bifur drinking in a corner while Bombur dug into the food with gusto, Balin and Dwalin seeming to discuss something with Fili and Kili, Dori chasing after Nori, and Ori being urged by Óin and Glóin to tell the tale of the journey to Erebor to a group of Iron Hills soldiers.

_Pity we’re not staying_ , sighed the Took. _I should’ve liked a drop of ale…_

_Well, we’re not leaving the Mountain just yet_ , the Baggins answered. _Gandalf said that neither of us might be ready to leave until the day after tomorrow._

_So there’ll be time for ale?_ the Took asked. _I feel like we’re really going to need some ale…_

_For goodness’ sake, yes, there’ll be time for ale_ , the Baggins snapped. _Now please, let us get out of sight so we can take off the ring._

Smiling a little to himself over having made good his escape, Bilbo stepped into an empty side-passage and slid the ring off his finger and put it back into his pocket. He stood for a moment and listened to the laughter and the voices coming from around the corner, chuckling quietly when one voice that could not be mistaken for anyone else’s but Bofur’s rose above the din in a song. Still laughing silently to himself, the hobbit turned to walk away; but he only managed to take two steps before a voice sounded behind him.

“Not interested in joining us then, master Baggins?” Bilbo glanced over his shoulder, relaxing somewhat when he recognised Dáin. “I’m certain there’s more than your fair share of ale and food.”

_How does that dwarf always manage to show up when we don’t expect him to?_ the Baggins sighed.

_Sod that, I want to know how he manages to sneak up on us_ , the Took replied. _Dwarves are not that sneaky!_

“I wanted a moment to myself,” Bilbo answered, smiling at the dwarf. “To, well… Gather a bit of courage, I suppose.”

“Have you told him, then?” Dáin asked, cocking his head to one side. “That you’ll be leaving?”

“Now, please don’t say you’ve heard anything from ‘a little bird’ again,” Bilbo sighed. “Did Gandalf tell you?”

“Of course not.” Dáin grinned, wide and cheerful, and shrugged. “One of the ravens did. They’re awfully disappointed that you’re leaving. Roäc apparently refers to you as ‘the one with sense’.”

“Of course he does.” The hobbit couldn’t help but smile a little wider and nod. “Yes, I have told Thorin. As a matter of fact, he’s the only one I’ve told. Hence the gathering of courage.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” Dáin stated. “They must know that you miss your home.”

“Oh, they’ll understand, there’s no doubt of that,” Bilbo replied. “But there is also no doubt of that there’ll be plenty of requests for me to remain here. Thorin already said that he’d see to that I would lack nothing, if I chose to stay.”

“My cousin is a sap,” Dáin laughed. “A fact known to very few except for his closest kin. But he isn’t wrong. You could stay, if you should wish it.”

“You belong in the Iron Hills, do you not?” Bilbo asked conversationally, bringing up the very point he’d made to Thorin during their discussion. “And you wish to return there?”

“Naturally. I may have relatives here, but my wife and child are there. Besides, it’s too calm here. And too grand.”

“There you are, then. I miss the Shire, and I belong there. I’ve relatives there, some of whom may still miss me. As much as I’ll miss my friends, I was never made for a place like this. I belong to the little rolling hills of the Shire, and to dear old Bag End.”

The burly dwarf smiled and nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer he’d been given.

“I won’t pester you any more about that, then,” he said. “And I’ll let you go and figure out what to say. I’d best get back in there before Thorin makes an ass out of himself again.”

“He won’t do that,” Bilbo answered. “You know he won’t.”

“Of course I know that,” Dáin chuckled. “But what are cousins for, if not to remind you that you’ve been an ass in the past?”

_I wish Adalgrim had heard that_ , the Baggins said wistfully. _Or Sigismond._

_I wish all of them had heard that_ , the Took laughed. _Alright, I like him!_

“If my memory serves me right, cousins are more for ensuring that you _do_ become an ass in the first place,” Bilbo mused. “Though perhaps that’s just hobbits.”

“Remind me before you leave to tell you about Thorin’s advice to me on how to woo my love,” Dáin said, grinning in a way that seemed a little too much like Kili with a bad idea in his head. “And I’ll dispel the notion of only hobbit cousins having that habit.”

“That bad?”

“I wouldn’t say bad - just utterly ill-advised and very clearly given by someone who doesn’t know how to woo someone.”

“You are a very cruel dwarf, to tempt me with the promise of that story when you intend to return to the feast and I do not.”

“I’ll tempt you with the same promise over breakfast, if you’ll allow it and wish to see Thorin act like an embarrassed youngling,” Dáin laughed. “Away with you, lad, if you’ve no wish to hear it tonight.”

“A good evening to you as well,” Bilbo answered, grinning brightly at the dwarf. “Do make sure that there’ll be at least one new story to add to the collection before the night is over!”

“I shall endeavour to do so, and I just might wrangle little Ori into writing it down for you,” Dáin promised as the hobbit turned to walk away. “Good evening to you, master Baggins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another short one, but well, the story is slowly coming towards an end. Chapter 10 already - and only because I did not stick to my original plan of 1 chapter per week. :'D  
> Welp, I am aiming to put up chapter 11 later this week, possibly on Friday evening.


	11. There And Back Again

On the list of things that Bilbo felt sure had been deliberately left out of fairy tales, sad farewells of friends made during one’s journey were definitely high on the list. He couldn’t recall a single story where the group had simply disbanded – in fact, in most cases they ended up staying together, adventuring some more and possibly even settling down practically next door to each other. His own story did not seem to have such an ending.

He had anticipated protests and sad goodbyes, and had prepared himself for them. He had even anticipated attempts at talking him into staying in Erebor with his friends. What he hadn’t anticipated were several members of the Company banding together in an attempt to outright steal what few belongings he had left to stow away and thus distract him from leaving altogether.

“Fili, Kili, you had best give back Sting or you’ll be sorry,” he cried as he yanked his dear old pipe out of Nori’s hands for the fifth time. “I _will_ take time to write something for Thorin to give your mother, just see if I won’t!”

“Or you could just stay and tell her yourself,” Bofur suggested airily, helping himself to one of the chests that had been gifted to the hobbit as payment for his services. “She’ll be here in, oh, a year or two, give or take.”

“I do not have a year or two,” Bilbo grumbled. “And put that back!”

“You don’t have to leave,” Ori chimed in. “You could stay.”

“We’ve been over this,” Bilbo sighed. “Please, Ori, I really do have to return to the Shire. This is not negotiable. I’ve my smial to look after, and relatives who’ll steal everything I own if I don’t come back soon!”’

“We could help transport it all here,” Glóin mused. “It wouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Really?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow at the red-haired dwarf and put his hands on his hip. “And how, precisely, do you presume that you would transport all my belongings, all that I’ve inherited from my parents and acquired over the years, through the wild lands that are between the Shire and Erebor? Not to mention over the Misty Mountains? Do you have a good plan thought out? Because this is something that requires _planning_. And how do you propose to ensure that nothing that belongs to me is stolen before you lot manage to get to it?”

“Er…”

“Exactly.”

“Enough of this,” Thorin sighed. He had been watching the calamity unfold with poorly hidden amusement, and finally seemed ready to intervene on behalf of the hobbit. “Bilbo is leaving tomorrow, whether any of us want him to do so or not. He has made it abundantly clear, multiple times, that he cannot stay. Fili, Kili, return Sting. Now. And Nori, take your hands off that pack. Bofur, put the chest down.”

The Company complied with the king’s commands, though with a good deal of mutinous grumbling. It took another few minutes to convince the dwarves to leave the hobbit to prepare, and Bilbo was quite ready to simply knock most of them over the head with one of the chests by then. Thorin remained, smiling as the others filed out of the room.

“I told you they’d want you to stay,” he chuckled. “You must’ve known they’d react like this.”

“Yes, well, they must’ve known what I would say as well,” Bilbo sighed, massaging his temples. “I can’t stay, that’s just how it is.”

_Not for lack of wanting to, though_ , the Took muttered. _I like it here._

_So do I_ , the Baggins hummed. _It really isn’t that bad…_

_‘That bad’?_ the Took snorted. _That’s all you can say about it?_

_There is the issue of us nearly having died here_ , the Baggins stated drily. _It sort of puts a damper on how enjoyable it is here._

“Glóin wasn’t wrong, though,” Thorin said slowly, his smile fading into a more serious look. “We _could_ actually transport your belongings here.”

“You heard the answer I gave him,” Bilbo retorted. “I don’t need to repeat it.”

“I know we’ve already discussed this.” Thorin frowned and shook his head. “But you are leaving far sooner than any of us had expected.”

_Here we go again_ , the Baggins groaned. _Oh, I can’t listen to this!_

_Because you just don’t want to hear it?_ the Took asked. _Or because it makes you reconsider the decision to leave?_

“I do want to stay.” Bilbo ran his fingers through his hair as he spoke, a tired look appearing on his face. “I really do want to. I like it here, and, well, all my friends are here.” He smiled weakly and shrugged. “I never did have many friends. Or well, not many who weren’t friends with me simply for the sake of me being very well off. But then you dwarves happened, and now look at me. I daresay my reputation at home has been quite ruined already, simply by my being away for so long.”

Thorin nodded thoughtfully.

“But still, you take the decision to return there,” he said. “And I cannot quite understand why.”

“Maybe it’s a sort of lonely life,” Bilbo answered. “But it is my life, and my home. All I’ve ever known is there, and all my relatives are there. I might not be very respectable anymore, not by hobbit standards, but I can’t simply abandon everything.”

The dwarf smiled again and closed the distance between them, gently placing his hands on the hobbit’s shoulders and giving them a firm squeeze.

“Then I won’t attempt to change your mind,” he said kindly. “But remember, if you should ever decide that you wish to return here, you will be more than welcome.”

And Bilbo smiled back and said:

“I will keep that in mind. Who knows, maybe it will turn out that the Shire is too small for me now.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Why is it that every time we go anywhere for a longer period of time, we return home to find a disaster area?_ the Baggins groaned. _It will take forever to regain all our belongings!_

_At least we’re not lacking in the means to purchase them back if we must_ , the Took grumbled. _Though it’ll be tough with some of them. I think I saw uncle Longo and Camellia carrying away mother’s Westfarthing set…_

_Well, we’re going to have to pay a hefty sum for that_ , the Baggins muttered. _At least we managed to snatch the spoons away from Lobelia…_

_I never realised how huge our smial is_ , the Took mused. _It’s so… empty. How on earth did we have so many things?_

_Best not to ask_ , the Baggins sighed. _Come now, we should at least attempt to see what’s left._

It was a grumbling Bilbo Baggins who wandered around the nearly empty rooms of Bag End, still dressed in foreign clothes (nearly his entire wardrobe was gone) and still without having washed or so much as had a bite to eat since early that morning when he passed Frogmorton. He noted with displeasure that many small things that his father and mother had left to him were gone, not to mention several big things as well. Their portraits had mysteriously disappeared from the wall, and the writing desk that his father had spent so much time at once had gone missing as well. He’d need to have a word with the hobbits who had arranged the auction, and see if they had a list of items that had been sold or put in storage somewhere.

It wasn’t unusual, he supposed, to return home after being gone for a year only to find that people thought one to be dead. No, unusual would be that he had not been home for more than about an hour when several relatives of both the Took- and Baggins-family showed up at his door and demanded to see him, to confirm that it really was him and not some impostor. Though, the impostor-theory seemed to exist mainly in the Took-family. They had brought with them news of what had been happening while he’d been gone, and he had regretfully informed them that he simply did not have the time to chat and had to get to work on regaining his property.

Then Hamfast Gamgee, the poor lad, had shown up and apologised profusely for the rather trampled garden and flowerbeds, as well as attempting to explain why he and old Holman Greenhand had not attempted to stall the auction. Bilbo had wearily told him that he didn’t care one jot about whether or not the auction had been stalled, as it had not been the responsibility of either of them.

“Only my relatives could’ve done something about that,” he assured Hamfast kindly. “And since they apparently thought me dead as well, there wasn’t much to be done, was there? Calm yourself, lad, I’m not angry with either you or Holman. The garden will be green and growing soon again.”

“Thank you kindly, master Baggins,” Hamfast said nervously, giving Bilbo an uncertain smile. “Begging your pardon, sir, but do you need any help with anything?”

“I’m sure I’ll have it all sorted out soon enough,” Bilbo answered. “Do give my regards to Holman, would you?”

 

* * *

 

 

But the return to Bag End was not quite as he had hoped. Though time passed as it always did, and he eventually did regain his sold (or, as he saw it, stolen) property, it simply was not like before. He tended to think himself a fool to have hoped that everything would simply go back to what it had been before, when he would never have dreamt to go adventuring beyond the borders of his safe little land. The messages he received from his friends did not make this better; they told him of how work in Erebor progressed, of how they looked forward to have their families come to them, and of memories from their long journey together. And all these messages made something ache in Bilbo, something that he a year previously would have pushed firmly into a corner of his mind and ignored.

This all came to a head one day, three whole years later, when he received another letter from Erebor. Poor old Holman and young Hamfast had, thankfully, grown accustomed to seeing large ravens perched on the fence around Bag End, and they had simply gone to tell the master of the smial that there was “another of those birds” for him. The familiar writing made him smile when he finally got to sit down and read it; letters from Thorin were surprisingly rare, and he treasured them dearly. This is what he read:

_My dear Bilbo,_

_I hope life in the Shire is not boring you too much – your last letter did seem to indicate something along those lines. You mustn’t let your relatives get to you. They do not know the full story of what happened to you, and perhaps they would not understand even if they did. I know you will tell me off for saying this, but they are a little bit simple-minded. Not due to their race (I swear, I do not need another lecture from you regarding your family’s cleverness), but rather due to their continued isolation from the world. Matters outside of the Shire mean little to them, and the reclamation of a distant kingdom certainly must seem trivial to them unless it were right on their borders. Hobbits are a simple folk with simple wants and needs, and perhaps that is why you became such a treasured companion of a band of dwarves – you never shared our visions of riches and nobility, but rather dreamt of sitting in your comfortable home, warming your feet by the fire. You brought with you a feeling of safety, of home, that we all sorely needed._

_But even with your simple wants and needs, you are not quite like your kin._

_No, don’t look like that. You know exactly which look I mean. The one where you think I’m talking nonsense and am delirious again. I am not wrong in this, and if you would wipe that look off your face, I will tell you why._

_You spoke sometimes of how different the Baggins- and Took-families are; how the Baggins-family sought mostly the comforts of home and loved the Shire above anything else, and how the Took-family loved adventure and would often have need to wander outside of the borders. While you definitely do show tendencies to both – I might mention the simple wish for a handkerchief, or a curiosity that rivals that of my nephews’ – you seem to be doubtful of where your true home lies, in a way that I cannot imagine any of your relatives have ever been. You spoke often of your relatives, but not often with fondness. Yet, when you would speak of anyone in the Company, you would do so with a fondness and a warmth that said more than words could._

_Forgive me, I do not mean to make you doubt your decision to return to your own little land, though my words may make it seem so. I know you do love your aunts, uncles and cousins – in this, hobbits and dwarves are not so different. But I thought I saw in you a wish for something more._

_I do not mean to bore you with my observations. I would tell you of how Erebor fares, if not for that I am well aware of how much our companions have already said. What I can tell you is very little. We have sent for our kin in Ered Luin. On one hand, I admit that I am glad to be able to tell them that our ancient home is ours once more, and ready to receive them. On the other hand, that also means facing my sister again; I do not look forward to this. I have missed her, certainly, but her latest letters have been particularly irate. I suspect she was not pleased to hear that her sons could have died. Though perhaps it might also be that I did not elaborate much, and her main source of news has been Fili and Kili. Though it may well be also that I have made her wait for so long to see her children again._

_I do wish you could have been here. Not only to help be curb my sister’s wrath, but to get to know her as well. For all that I speak of her as I would a dragon, she is very dear to me, and she is a kind and loving person. I am sure you would like her, and she would grow very fond of you._

_But now, I suppose I ought to return to my duties. I have taken a little too much time out of my day to write to you; it may not be pages long, but I found I had trouble choosing the right words this time. Balin is glaring at me. He seems quite displeased, although he knows only too well of whom I write to._

_I wish you well, Bilbo, and I hope that your life in the Shire is as peaceful as it was before we met. Would you tell me more of your homeland’s history in your next letter? I am well aware that you have told Ori some things that he had asked you about, but there must be more that you are not saying or leaving out._

_May Mahal’s hammer guide you, burglar._

_\- Thorin_

Poor Bilbo didn’t know what to say. He stared at the letter for a long time, trying to make sense of his own thoughts and feelings, and his eyes returned again and again to a few certain lines.

_‘You are not quite like your kin’_ , the Took hummed. _Well… Can’t argue with that, can we? Not even old Bullroarer went on an adventure like this, and he was a soldier in his own right._

_‘You seem to be doubtful of where your true home lies’_ , the Baggins mumbled. _But it’s here, in Bag End. Isn’t it?_

_‘A wish for something more’?_ the Took repeated. _Well, if he means a wish to go wandering again, then maybe…_

_It would be nice_ , the Baggins agreed. _It wasn’t so bad._

_And we do miss Erebor_ , the Took replied. _And now when it’s been restored, it’s bound to be a good deal nicer._

_Oh, but we couldn’t_ , the Baggins hastily stated. _Could we? I mean… We’ve really not been back for long, and we have our responsibilities and duties…_

_Oh, hang our ridiculous ‘responsibilities’ and ‘duties’!_ the Took snapped. _Going to birthday parties? Hosting dinners? Chatting with relatives who don’t give a rat’s arse whether we speak with them again?_

_Language!_ cried the Baggins. _You know what I meant!_

_I do, and it’s ridiculous!_ huffed the Took. _For goodness’ sake, everyone is only waiting for us to go off into the blue again anyway! Besides, you were the one moaning about how they started calling us ‘Mad Baggins’!_

_Yes, but going off to Erebor again?_ the Baggins hissed. _When we’ve explicitly stated over and over that we shan’t do so?_

“A surprise,” muttered Bilbo to himself as he rose from his seat in his study. “It could be a surprise. I could… No, it’s mad, isn’t it? But not a bad idea. Just a little mad, is all. I could probably get at least as far as Rivendell on my own…”

He folded the letter and put it in his pocket, smiling cheerfully to himself as his fingers touched the little golden ring that laid there.

“Speak of the trolls and they’ll appear, as da used to say,” he said to the quiet smial. “Let’s see, where did I hide my pack?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly delayed! I had meant to post this yesterday, but I was 100% wiped after work. So sorry this is late!


	12. Home

_There has got to be an easier way to do this_ , the Baggins grumbled. _Sneaking about like a thief…_

_Of course it would be easier to just march up to the gates_ , the Took laughed. _But it wouldn’t be as fun!_

It was difficult for Bilbo to keep from laughing when he snuck past the guards by the gate and continued into the winding halls and corridors of the Lonely Mountain. The little ring was exceptionally useful, and it concealed him perfectly as he moved past the crowds. He was a little bit disappointed that he hadn’t been able to surprise the dwarves moving from Ered Luin to Erebor – apparently they had left a whole month ahead of him – but he could let that slide. On his way from Rivendell, he had at least been granted an escort, by Gandalf himself. The wizard had told him that he had business in the wild lands beyond the Misty Mountains, and that he might as well lead the hobbit on the right path.

“I wonder, though, Bilbo,” the old man had said with a sidelong glance at the hobbit. “Are you making a good decision?”

“I wouldn’t call it good,” Bilbo admitted. “But a better one, at the very least. I shouldn’t have to think of what my relatives would want for me, should I?”

Though he had been reluctant, he had indeed passed through Mirkwood again. As Gandalf pointed out to him, it was the fastest route, and the road at the forest’s eastern reaches had been cleared again. It would be far easier for the hobbit to make it through there alone, especially with the elves of its northern kingdom working hard to keep the spiders off the path.

_Couldn’t we just show ourselves?_ the Baggins complained. _How are we supposed to find anywhere to sleep like this? Or food?_

_I told you, I have an idea_ , the Took answered brightly. _We’ve already been told that we’re welcome back at any time. Why not give them a surprise?_

_Why sneak in like thieves?_ the Baggins shot back. _They’d be just as surprised if we simply showed ourselves at the gate!_

_Of course they would, of course they would_ , the Took laughed. _But it wouldn’t be as fun!_

Bilbo grinned brightly to himself as he moved through the passages. He could remember the way to his destination quite well; he had spent so much time when he was there last simply wandering around and finding out where different ways led. He truly felt like a burglar now – the area had been mapped out, he went unseen by all, and if all went according to plan, he would be able to complete his little mission without a scratch and without anyone being any the wiser.

Upon reaching the hallway he sought, he had to hold back another chuckle. It was too easy. Aside from two guards at the only way in, it was empty. He could remember that there were usually at least six – two stationed at the entrance, two in the middle, and two stationed by the end of the hallway, partially hidden in shadow to be more difficult to spot. Dwalin had spent a good long while explaining to the hobbit why this was a good thing to do. The ones at the entrance would stop anyone on the way in; the ones in the middle would be the next possible line of defense; and the remaining two would stay hidden in the shadows until the opportune moment. The only time when there would be only two would be when there was a change of guards, and this window never lasted long. It seemed that Bilbo had chosen quite a good time to arrive.

_Oh yes, your plan relied on luck_ , the Baggins snapped. _What if all had been present?!_

_Sod if I know_ , the Took admitted. _Thought I’d improvise._

Still grinning brightly, Bilbo snuck past the guards, moving as carefully and silently as he could. Hopefully, the distant noises of people would mask the ever-silent sound of hobbit-feet on stone floors. Hopefully. He moved as quickly as he dared until he reached the largest door at the very end of the hallway. It was richly decorated, with golden lines running through the wood.

He glanced quickly over his shoulder, noting with satisfaction that the remaining guards had yet to show up. Now there was only one issue.

The door.

Nori had told him once that a golden ring that turned you invisible was all very well and good, damned handy, but what good was invisibility if you couldn’t simply pass through things like an apparition? No, the door would be the bane of whoever used that ring. And for the first time, Bilbo felt inclined to agree. Not only did he not remember if the door was noisy when opened (though if it had been, he could only hope they had oiled the hinges), but he really did have to open it. Which would probably catch someone’s attention if they knew that the inhabitant of the rooms behind said door was not there.

_I hate you_ , the Baggins informed the Took in a scathing tone. _I really, really hate you._

_Thank you for stating the obvious_ , the Took replied nervously. _I’m beginning to see where you get that feeling from. Doors…_

Bilbo bit his lip and alternated between staring at the door and staring at the guards; he knew he had to be quick, but what if the noise of the door opening alerted the guards? What if the hinges squeaked? He’d be caught for sure and put in a damp old cell, or worse. But he didn’t have much of a choice – if he revealed himself now and simply strolled up to the guards, he wouldn’t fare much better. So he took a deep breath and stepped forward, carefully and slowly opening the door.

There was barely a sound aside from a low click as the handle turned. He paused immediately as he heard it and looked over at the guards, noting with relief that they didn’t seem to have noticed. But he could hear something else as well; voices and footsteps approaching. It seemed time was up and the remaining guards were returning to their posts. He pushed the door open, blessing whoever was thoughtful enough to let this door open inwards, and slipped inside. Judging from the sounds, he managed to get the door closed only just in time before the guards came around the corner.

Well inside, he slipped off the ring and looked around, grinning brightly.

“Well, that certainly sets a milestone in my career as a burglar,” he muttered to himself. “I bet Nori hasn’t managed to sneak into the king’s quarters. Well, not yet, at any rate. Though, of course, the door wasn’t even locked…”

He put down his pack and moved away from the door, deciding that he may as well explore the rooms a little; they hadn’t been in the best condition when he last saw them, and he couldn’t help but indulge his Took-side a little bit when it had already gotten him this far.

_Ah, now this is more like it_ , the Took chuckled. _Look at all this! Golden filigrees, tapestries on the walls…_

_We shouldn’t be here all alone_ , the Baggins fretted. _We should just have spoken to someone at the gate…_

_Don’t be such a boring Baggins now_ , the Took sighed. _We worked hard to get here! At least let us have this one little surprise?_

_I can’t do anything about this, as you well know_ , the Baggins groaned. _But I don’t like this!_

_Nothing new beneath the sun_ , the Took replied.

Humming silently to himself, Bilbo moved over to a desk placed in a corner; it was covered in papers, and he could spot several familiar handwritings; there was Balin’s flowing script, there was Thorin’s somewhat rushed signature, there was Ori’s neat writing. It was oddly comforting to see that they had carried on as normal, despite what must have been a very confusing break of communications with the Shire. He could imagine what they must be thinking, and he could only hope that they hadn’t gone as far as sending a troop of dwarves there to look for him.

_Thorin would’ve gone on his own_ , the Baggins sighed. _If not for his duties._

_I really hope no one was on the way_ , the Took murmured. _That would be awkward…_

Awkward was one way of putting it. Bilbo tried not to roll his eyes at the thought of Thorin taking drastic measures to find out just why their messages weren’t being answered; that is, he _tried_. It didn’t go very well.

The low click of the handle caught his attention, and he stepped away from the desk and turned around just as the door opened and Thorin came in. The dwarf looked tired – even from a distance, Bilbo could see dark circles under his eyes. Long strands of hair were escaping his braids, and the hobbit could only assume that the dwarf-king had simply rolled out of the bed in the morning and not bothered to make them look as immaculate as he could remember that they had been.

Thorin didn’t even notice Bilbo until he had closed the door behind him. Only then did he look up and freeze in his movements; there was a confused and maybe somewhat shocked look on his face, and Bilbo had to struggle not to laugh.

“Hello, Thorin,” he said brightly. “Nice to see you.”

Thorin seemed to recover from his surprise; the look of shock disappeared, and was instead replaced with something more akin to fury.

“You show up here,” Thorin hissed. “You come here, after months, _months_ , of silence.”

“I… Yes.” Bilbo’s smile faded and he took an involuntary step back. He really hadn’t expected Thorin to be angry. “I’m so-“

“Months,” the dwarf growled, very slowly starting to move towards the hobbit. “Months without a word. Not even an answer to the last messages we sent you. And you somehow show up here, in my chambers.”

“Well, I can’t precisely just pop over here for tea-time,” Bilbo stated, trying to prepare himself for a punch in the face. “It takes a while to get here, you know. And ravens would’ve had a hard time finding me, don’t you think? I didn’t really have the time to answer before I left, but perhaps I should have…”

Thorin stopped only inches away from the hobbit, glaring at him as though he hadn’t seen anything as infuriating in many, many years. Bilbo tried to glare back – he really did – but the fact that he had expected a bit of surprise and joy instead of anger rather bored through him, and he couldn’t help but feel frightened of the dwarf. The last time he’d seen Thorin look this angry had been-

_We do not talk about what happened on the wall before the gate_ , the Baggins snapped. _We do not talk about that!_

_Well, that_ was _the last time we saw that face!_ the Took snapped back. _And we weren’t precisely expecting to see it again!_

“You, hobbit, are by far,” Thorin said as he reached out and grabbed Bilbo’s shoulders, “the most infuriating creature I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.” Very slowly, the furious look on his face faded, replaced bit by bit by relief and a soft smile. He sighed deeply and leant close, pressing his forehead against the hobbit’s. “Warn us next time you decide to disappear like that, would you? Fili and Kili have continuously managed to come up with ridiculous scenarios of what might’ve happened to you, everything from another encounter with trolls to you being locked up by your relatives… I would’ve gone to look for you, had you taken another month.”

Bilbo sighed deeply and relaxed, relief flooding over him at the affectionate gesture. If the dwarf had taken the decision to punch him after all, he would probably have deserved it; that would not, however, make Thorin weaker or make the pain disappear.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” he muttered. “Balin would’ve dragged you back, kicking and screaming. And then he would’ve sent Fili and Kili instead to get them out of his hair for a while.”

“If he only dared to trust them with such a mission,” Thorin snorted. “They may have matured, but they’re oddly childlike in some things. Not to mention their attention-span – you tell them to do something, and it’s one fall down the stairs while chasing something shiny before it’s all gone.”

“Be nice to your nephews,” Bilbo said, giving the dwarf a small nudge. “I’m sorry for startling you, Thorin, I really didn’t mean to. I had thought to surprise you and the others, that’s all…”

With a sigh, the dwarf leant back, still smiling warmly at the hobbit and squeezing his shoulders as though he worried that his friend would disappear if he let go.

“You did surprise me,” he said. “I almost thought I’d fallen asleep standing up and had started dreaming. How did you get in here?”

“Sneaking, obviously.” Bilbo couldn’t help but grin again. “Maybe Dwalin should teach the guards that they have to listen for sounds as well.”

“Sneaking,” Thorin repeated with a tone that he had probably used far too many times in the past when speaking with Fili and Kili; it was an exasperated tone that the hobbit could recall hearing from his own parents when he’d been small. “Might I assume that you used your ring as well?”

“Why, of course.”

“Of course you did…”

Bilbo shrugged and laughed.

“Well, the point is that I’m here now,” he said brightly. “After a good deal of thinking about it, of course.”

“None of the others know you’re here?” Thorin asked, sighing softly when the hobbit shook his head. “Well, there shouldn’t be an issue. They do want to see you. Any longer without a word and I fear my nephews might start climbing the walls like spiders in sheer frustration.”

“I might enjoy seeing that, so maybe we should let them sweat a little,” Bilbo stated. “But I thought they’d all be busy. It’s no bother, I can wait until they have time.”

“Was that what you were planning to do with me?” Thorin asked, smirking somewhat. “Sit here and wait until I deigned to come back?”

“It’s getting late,” Bilbo answered, huffing despite his flushed cheeks. “Even kings need to eat sometimes, and I figured I wasn’t too late for dinner.”

“Come then,” Thorin laughed, “and we’ll see about finding you food and a place to sleep. And ensure that everyone gets to see you.”

“Will I get to meet your sister?” Bilbo asked curiously. “You mentioned her in the last of your letters; or well, the last one that I had a chance to read.”

“She’ll want to meet you as well. No doubt she’ll thank you for keeping her family alive.”

“Her fool of a brother and the pair of fool sons. Are you certain she’ll want to _thank_ me for that?”

“Mind your tongue, burglar, you _are_ in the presence of a king.”

“A king who didn’t punish said burglar for sneaking into his chambers…”

“Hush.”

 

* * *

 

 

Erebor was comfortable. Perhaps more than just comfortable – Bilbo had to admit that it felt very much like home. Bag End was, and would always be, his childhood home and a safe place; Erebor, however, was something new and exciting and somehow incredibly comfortable. At least this time, he reasoned, he had left Bag End in safe hands. Dear old Holman and young Hamfast were looking after the smial, and Bilbo had sent a letter to his cousin Fortinbras, the Thain, to ensure that no drastic measures would be taken. He had promised in said letter that he would send messages regularly so that no one would believe him to be dead. If by any chance he decided to return to the Shire, he had no wish to come back to find another auction in full swing.

At least in Erebor he had friends – people who had missed him dearly and were happy to have him there. Bilbo spent a lot of time in the library with Ori (and, whenever he had time, Balin), but he saw the others as often as he or they could make time. He’d even sparred with Fili and Kili a few times, and been mocked relentlessly by them for his atrocious skills with a sword; Dwalin had watched once, and declared that it was time for Bilbo to learn to properly wield Sting. There would be no more neglecting that.

“If you’re going to stay here a while,” the burly dwarf had said in response to the hobbit’s protests, “you may as well learn. You know we can’t always be around to protect you.”

_Can’t always protect us indeed_ , the Baggins grumbled when Bilbo dragged himself back to his rooms after another sound beating. _If anyone could protect us from Dwalin’s zealousness, I’d be much obliged…_

_I didn’t think it was possible to get bruises like this before_ , the Took groaned. _And no sympathy from anyone but Thorin! That’s simply unfair!_

Bilbo winced when he opened the door to his rooms. Dwalin had given him a hard smack on his elbow while they were sparring, and the hobbit suspected that he had yet another bruise to add to the collection. He had considered going to see Óin, but he did remember what the old healer had said during their journey to Erebor.

“Wounds are not an issue, neither are bones if they must be mended. But bruises are bruises, and they take their own time to heal.”

“Bruises are bruises,” the hobbit grumbled to himself. “Someone should give Dwalin a few, see how he likes it…”

“I’ll volunteer, if it’d please you,” said a voice that made the hobbit jump in surprise. He thought he had closed the door behind him, but as he turned around he saw Thorin standing there with a small smile on his face. “My apologies, I hadn’t meant to startle you.”

“No harm done,” Bilbo sighed. “But please, don’t sneak up on me like that again. I thought my heart would stop…”

“Have you sparred with Dwalin again?” Thorin asked, watching as the hobbit rubbed his elbow. “I could tell him to be more careful, if you’d like. He hasn’t had to deal with an untrained hobbit before.”

“Untrained, my foot,” Bilbo growled. “Simply a bit lapsed.”

“More untrained than Fili and Kili were,” the dwarf answered. “They did ask to take over, but they have their own duties to see to.”

“Speaking of duties…” Bilbo gave Thorin a long look and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you here? I thought you’d be busy all day.”

“We’ve not spoken much lately,” Thorin answered readily. “And I hoped that you might have a moment to spare.”

Bilbo’s look turned suspicious. The reason might sound innocent enough, but he knew very well that the dwarf-king had much to do; Balin would never have allowed a frivolous break. But the hobbit turned away and smothered a laugh, waving for Thorin to come in.

“So,” he said conversationally, “who did you bribe to distract Balin while you snuck off?”

“You’d be surprised at what Dís is willing to do,” the dwarf answered, closing the door behind him as he followed his friend into the rooms. “Especially if it’s about you.”

“What? Why me?” Bilbo asked, frowning as he gingerly took a seat by his little table and gestured for Thorin to do the same. “Why would it make any difference?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Thorin smirked, which ruined the faked surprised look on his face. “Why, apparently I am still, and I quote, ‘madly in love’ with you.”

Though the dwarf’s tone suggested that it was meant as a joke, Bilbo found that he couldn’t bring himself to laugh at it. He thought back to the situation they’d been in after the battle, and how worried he had been about Thorin’s reaction to hearing that he didn’t feel the same. He thought of how badly he had wanted to stay, despite everything, and how Thorin had carefully attempted to needle him into doing so. And even now, after so much deliberation, he was there – and found that he didn’t so much mind the idea of having someone love him.

_Have we gone completely mad?_ groaned the Baggins. _We said we didn’t love him – he’s not expecting us to suddenly fall into his arms!_

_‘Time heals’, as da used to say_ , the Took mused. _I mean, we’re not frightened of him anymore, are we?_

_He doesn’t seem prone to brooding over gold anymore, I’ll grant you that_ , the Baggins reluctantly agreed. _Or throwing people from battlements._

_We missed him._

_We did._

_We missed him even when we tried to leave the camps_ , the Took hummed. _Him most of all, and despite all that he’d done._

_We don’t even know what we feel_ , the Baggins quickly argued. _We can’t rush into this._

_Who’s rushing?_ the Took snorted. _I’m not rushing! Of course I know that we can’t do that! I’m just saying that we don’t feel_ nothing _right now._

_We shouldn’t get his hopes up_ , the Baggins warned. _We should be careful._

_All the same,_ the Took stated, _we can’t claim that we haven’t thought of this for some time now._

_Thought of it and done nothing_ , the Baggins agreed. _But caution is a must!_

“Is that what she believes?” Bilbo asked after a while of silent thought, during which he had seen Thorin’s facial expression pass from calm and joking to worried to nervous and finally settling on sad. “Does she believe that you still love me?”

“She does,” Thorin confirmed; he sounded uncomfortable, as though he regretted having brought up the subject in the first place. “I… Forgive me, Bilbo, I hadn’t meant… I remember what you said and I’ve no intentions of attempting to change your mind. My sister, she means well, but… Sometimes her words hit a little too close to the mark, and…”

The hobbit eyed him warily, and when Bilbo did speak it was with a small voice that he could scarcely recognise as his own.

“Do you want me to leave Erebor? To give you time?”

“No!” Thorin cried, his eyes widening in surprise. “No, Bilbo, I didn’t mean that! It’s… It’s been a joy to have you here, it truly has, but I…” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I… If you would wish to return to the Shire, I can’t stop you.”

“You would have me stay?” Bilbo asked hesitantly. “Even if I can’t give you what you want?”

“What I want doesn’t matter,” the dwarf answered firmly. “If you do not feel the same, there’s nothing I can do about it. But I would have you stay – not as a lover, but as a friend. You’ve been here for a time already, and I’ve not deluded myself into seeing something that isn’t there. You are my friend, and I will always value that.”

“Doesn’t it hurt you? To have me close all the time?”

“If it did, I would not be here with you now.”

_Alright, this is going to be somewhat painful_ , the Took muttered. _I don’t like this._

_Well, better that we know, isn’t it?_ the Baggins suggested. _Just… Let’s try not to get his hopes up. Not when he’s been doing so well._

Bilbo looked away from Thorin and instead chose to stare down at the table. He only had one question to ask, and he wasn’t certain of how it would be received after so long. But Thorin seemed steady enough – perhaps it was time to at least give way just a little bit.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he began slowly. “I never did. But I… Thorin, it’s been so long. It’s been so very long, and I can’t say that what I thought back then is, well, entirely valid anymore.” He paused and quickly stole a glance at the dwarf’s face, taking careful notice of his furrowed brow; whether it was due to confusion or rising anger, he wasn’t certain. “Back then, I was frightened of you. I feared what being wanted by you meant. And I feared that you might lose yourself again and attempt to hurt me. I had… I had admired you, Thorin, and you time and time again told me that you trusted me. It meant the world to me then.” He had to force himself to look up again and keep his eyes on the dwarf – he felt almost like a child explaining something ridiculous to a parent. “I’ve… grown. I think I have, at least. And I feel that I’m not afraid of you anymore, and that your trust still matters to me.” With a slow and hesitant movement, he reached out over the table to place his hand over Thorin’s, at the same time lifting his head to make himself look the dwarf in the eye. “I can’t promise that I will ever feel the same. I can’t and won’t make that promise, because I don’t want you to get hurt. But I… I do want to stay here. And I want to stay permanently. And I want to see where this could go. Whatever this is. Er… I mean…”

Thorin turned his hand over so that he could grasp Bilbo’s, and smiled at the hobbit.

“I know what you mean,” he said quietly. “And I’ll stick to what I’ve said; your friendship means a lot to me, and if that is all you find that you can give me, I will be more than happy with that. I can’t and won’t force you to feel anything else.”

_That was… surprisingly painless_ , the Baggins commented vaguely. _I didn’t think he’d take it so well._

_Neither did I_ , the Took answered with something of a relieved sigh. _Maybe you explained it better than either of us thought._

“Maybe something will grow,” Thorin continued. “But in the meantime, this is more than enough.”

_He seems more mature, doesn’t he?_ the Took chuckled. _Some years ago I doubt he would’ve said that._

_Maybe he would have_ , the Baggins said. _Though most likely some years before he even met us._

“It is enough,” Bilbo agreed. “For now, at the very least.” He sighed deeply. “Alright, with that out of the way, how often has your sister ridiculed you for falling for a hobbit?”

“You really don’t want to know.” Thorin groaned and shook his head. “Though it hasn’t been as relentless as I thought it would be. She’s been oddly encouraging, really.”

“And she truly believes you to be, ah, _madly_ in love with me?”

“I will ignore that joke, burglar.”

They grinned at each other, and Bilbo was somehow reminded of the time they had spent in Beorn’s house during their journey and how uncertainly they had danced about the attempts to actually be friendly with each other. They had come far from those first faltering steps, so very far, though the hobbit had to admit that it felt strange to sit and joke with a king. And speaking of that particular title…

“Not that I’m not happy to entertain you,” he said airily, “but how long do you think Dís can keep Balin from hunting you down?”

“More than likely she’s already gotten bored of that,” Thorin stated in the tone of someone commenting on the weather. “So I would suggest, master Baggins, that we move this discussion elsewhere.”

“That seems like quite a sound idea.” Bilbo grinned brightly. “But where? Wouldn’t Balin search in your quarters?”

“Then we shall have to go elsewhere.” Thorin got to his feet and, as he still held on to the hobbit’s hand, pulled Bilbo up from his chair. “Would it please you to perhaps leave the Mountain with me, if only for a few hours?”

“Only if we stop by the kitchens first,” Bilbo laughed as he let go of the dwarf-king’s hand and hurried towards the door, his bruises after the sparring somehow forgotten. “I am a hobbit, and a hobbit whose luncheon has been severely delayed at that! Bombur will certainly be able to help. But a walk outside in the sun will do us both some good, I’d wager.”

“A walk, and perhaps some ideas about how to transport your belongings here,” Thorin agreed, laughing as well. “Glóin’s latest idea involved sending Dwalin and at least eight strong guards with you back to the Shire as an escort.”

_So_ , the Baggins stated in a conversational tone, _did we consider that step in the plan of wanting to stay here permanently?_

_Not even a little_ , the Took groaned. _This is going to take forever, isn’t it?_

_A letter or two to cousin Fortinbras, and a few changes regarding our will_ , the Baggins hummed. _And, of course, ensuring that we actually have an idea about what those changes will be – by which I mean, who is going to take over Bag End?_

_This is going to sound crazy_ , the Took said firmly. _But, maybe we could just…_ not _do it?_

_You’re right. It does sound crazy._

_We could keep it just in case we want to visit?_

Or _we could simply hand it over to someone who won’t mind us visiting._

_You never like my ideas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go, last chapter finally out! It has taken me nearly a year to get all this out, and I'm pretty happy that it's finally here! I hope you've all enjoyed this story!


End file.
